Bulletproof Love
by mysterious-song
Summary: Assassins pride themselves on being invisible, drifting through the world as ghosts and leaving chaos in their wake. But when fate decides to entangle the lives of two opposing killers, they become a little less invisible and a little more vulnerable. Will they learn to fight together, or will it be a fight to the death?
1. Chapter 1

**So, I got a prompt for an assassin AU, and once I had sifted through the many,** _ **many**_ **possible ideas in my head I ended up writing this one.**

 **A huge thanks is needed for Bela who helped a lot with this. So yeah, here goes another multichapter fic (god help me)…**

 **Let me know what you think :)**

…

The target that had been handed over in a manila envelope was a man of routine. He'd do the same thing day in, day out.

It had taken a mere 72 hours to have marked the target's moves enough to predict where he'd be at any given hour during the day. Another 72 hours to have his itinerary noted down to the minute. The need to do good work fast was becoming ever more important, not only to get a healthy source of income to buy the materials needed to do a proper job, but also to one-up the damn competitor who kept killing his targets right under his nose before he could get to them.

So it was the need to be better, and his new target's meticulous need to keep to a schedule that had Robin Locksley knowing that in precisely 26 minutes Mr. Sidney Glass would be entering the same hotel bar Robin had just walked into. It was more than enough time to take inventory of entrances and exits and plan for all eventualities.

Though twenty six minutes was enough time for a man sitting alone at the bar to become noticeable. Especially an attractive man – Robin was not one for modesty and he owned a mirror – wearing a crisp, white shirt and pressed, black slacks. The hotel was an expensive one, a smart dress code for the bar and nightly black-tie events to appease those who mixed business and pleasure.

The nature of the guests staying at the hotel also meant that security was more difficult to get around than most; CCTV covering most public places, constant watch at the door and reception, security guards so burly that even Robin wondered if he could take them and win.

As he hovered to the side of the entrance, directly under one of the pesky cameras, Robin weighed up his options. Perhaps he should look for a target of a different kind. One to help him blend in – and perhaps stave off the boredom that would no doubt creep up between now and when Mr. Glass would arrive.

His eyes scanned the room, looking for women that appealed to him, mentally crossing off all those who did not grab his attention; _too blonde, too loud, too scary-looking…_

His eyes settled on a dark haired woman sat at the corner of the bar. It was the perfect location; out of the line of sight of cameras but within sight of the entrance, and near to a fire exit should he be discovered and have to make a hasty departure. The woman herself was stunning; her dark hair fell perfectly past her shoulders, her smoky eyes and red lips accentuated the beauty in her features, the short, black cocktail dress she was wearing barely reached mid-thigh as she crossed her legs…

 _She was the one._

He made his way over, surreptitiously smoothing errant strands of hair down and fixing his shirt; he had to make a good first impression, and judging from the looks of this woman, it was no mean feat.

"Is this seat taken?" Robin asked once he was in earshot, offering a smile he hoped was a mixture of comforting and alluring when wide eyes turned to look at him.

The woman's gaze travelled over him and Robin felt slightly uneasy under her scrutiny. He wasn't usually a man who found beauty intimidating, but _something_ about this woman had him being pulled under her spell already, eager to impress.

Her gaze flickered to the chair then back to him. "Obviously not."

"Do you mind if I take it?" He asked, feeling a little put out when he had to wait for a response as she signalled to the bar tender for another drink.

"I'm pretty sure they're bolted to the floor," she retorted, her gaze firmly on the woman fixing her cocktail.

"Well I hear they serve Screwdrivers at the bar," he quipped, and the smirk that tugged at her red lips felt like victory.

"I prefer Martini's," she confessed as the aforementioned drink was placed in front of her and exchanged for the money she slid onto the counter.

"The porn star variety?" Robin asked with a chuckle, resting his hand on the back of the deep purple upholstered stool he was trying to sit on without driving this woman away.

His answer was given in her taking the slice of apple off of the rim and biting into it with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed.

"A man can but dream," he sighed, feigning disappointment, and then chuckling when the woman tossed a glare his way.

When she turned back to her drink he watched every movement, the way her lips pressed against the rim of the glass, the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the way her fingers held the stem with so much grace and poise he was one moment away from calling her 'your majesty'.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation or are you going to stand there all night?" she asked once she placed the glass back on to a coaster, snapping him out of his musings.

It took her looking back up at him to spur him into action, feeling proud when he managed to spin the stool, sit and turn himself back to look at the woman in front of him in one fluid movement.

There was a moment where neither of them spoke, the woman seemingly content with swirling her drink and glancing towards the alcohol on the shelves fixed to a mirrored wall behind the bar.

It appeared if Robin wanted a conversation he'd have to start one himself.

He looked her over again, able to take in a little more detail – and trying to find something to complement her on that did not sound like ' _I love your body, lay it on me'_. Though in all fairness the dress fitted to her curves as if it was tailor made for her, the front was low enough to tease but high enough that it drove him to frustration. And those shoes… The black, strappy sandals on her feet were the definition of 'fuck me heels' and as Robin's eyes trailed up her toned legs he imagined them wrapped around his waist as he did just that.

"Are you going to stop mentally undressing me at some point?" He heard, and felt a blush colour his cheeks.

"Can you blame me? You're stunning," he quipped, not entirely thinking his response through. Though he caught the tinge of pink creeping up onto the apples of her cheeks as she tried to hide a small smile in her glass, and he vowed that he'd speak his mind more often if it got that reaction.

"So… Are you a guest at the hotel?" The woman asked, slightly turning her stool so she could face him.

"Are you?" Robin countered.

Her perfect eyebrows drew together in a frown Robin wanted to call cute. "I asked first."

"So you answer first," he retorted, smirking when she had no come-back.

With a huff she turned back to her drink, admitting "no, I'm just a visitor," then sending a glare his way that was clearly a demand for him to answer too.

"As it happens, so am I."

The woman _hmm'd_ , her gaze heated as it took a leisurely path downwards, scanning his torso and the very slight bulge in his trousers – that Robin was sure was disguised well but didn't want to look down and check in case he drew attention to it – before it met his with a slow blink. "How terribly inconvenient."

The low, sultry tone and promiscuous implications had Robin's heart racing. Yes, he was a professional and prided himself on his ability to keep level headed in any situation, but this woman… _this woman._ She was something else. Something dangerous.

Robin had always found himself attracted to danger.

"I'm sure we could come up with something," he drawled, leaning more on the bar and letting his eyes roam her figure in the same manner as hers just had.

She clicked her tongue and slowly shook her head, "I'm not that easy."

"I'd be disappointed if you were milady; I like a challenge."

When her eyes met his again they were mischievous and somewhat amused. "Most men can't handle it."

"I'm not most men," Robin grinned.

"That's what they all say."

With a sly smirk, Robin sank his teeth into his lower lip, fighting the urge to grin when her eyes lowered to his mouth. "Then allow me a chance to prove it to you."

She slowly leaned forwards, her elbow on her knee and her chin resting on her relaxed fist. Her tongue swiped from one side of her cunning grin to the other, moistening her lips in a movement that would have had Robin shifting if it didn't risk putting a little more distance between them. Her teeth sank into her own lower lip, her eyes darting to his mouth once again as she leaned further still…

"Perhaps some other time," she drawled, mere inches away from him. The feel of her breath ghosting over Robin's lips had his fists clenching as he exercised restraint in not just taking a risk and _going for it_.

Then she winked, a grin lighting up her features before she sat upright again. It took Robin a moment to recover from the proximity, his mind choosing to continue the situation as if she hadn't pulled away, where her mouth had pressed to his and her hand had slid up his thigh and…

"Why not now?" he asked, his eyes fixed on red lips as she took a sip of her drink.

"I'm busy," she stated once she had placed her drink back on the coaster.

Robin frowned. "Busy drinking Martinis?"

"And flirting with you," she smirked, her lips pursed before she turned to look at him with mischievous eyes.

Robin watched as elegant fingers grasped the stem of the cherry in her drink and plucked it out, delicately placing it in her mouth.

"Well," Robin started, but then her lips sealed around the fruit as she withdrew it, an eyebrow raised in faux innocence as she placed it on a corner of the coaster. The immediate fantasies in his head had him losing track of his thought, leaving his sentence to trail off into nothing.

She looked at him expectantly, with an evil glint in her eyes, offering a mocking; "you were saying?"

"I was saying…" he started, trying to think of what he was talking about before this woman decided to ignite his brain – and _other parts_ – on fire, "… something."

The way she bit into her bottom lip as she grinned was worth all the potential embarrassment Robin felt at not keeping level headed. _Damn,_ this woman would be the end of him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she started, although she sounded anything but ' _sorry'_ ; "Am I distracting you?"

"Well," Robin smirked, "I find I'm not averse to that."

With a chuckle, she returned her gaze to her drink. "Not many people are."

Robin tilted his head, trying to understand this enigmatic female he had been drawn to. He just couldn't get a read on her, and for an assassin, not knowing with whom you were dealing was as dangerous as turning up without a weapon.

Lost in thought, he didn't even fully process that he was removing his jacket until he felt a heated gaze watching his actions. When he looked to his right he saw chocolate brown eyes follow his every move as a set of red lips parted on an inhale.

"Now who's mentally undressing who?"

Her gaze snapped to his, no doubt taking note of his cocky smirk if the minute roll of her eyes was anything to go by.

Though not a moment later a similar smirk appeared to mirror his. "Would you rather I didn't?"

"I'd rather be undressed with your hands instead of your eyes, milady," Robin countered, feeling a little brave and confident he'd won their unspoken battle of wits this time.

"There goes my plan to unfasten your clothes with my teeth."

Robin's stomach clenched, _damn her._

The look on his face as she one-upped him yet again must have been amusing; her smirk turned into a grin that showcased her dazzling smile.

Robin frowned and shook his head in bemusement. "Are you always this-"

His sentence trailed off when she turned to him, her features morphing into a glare. Though this was not similar to her previous glares – the ones with barely concealed exasperation and obvious contempt that had amused him; no, this was more of the _shut up or I'll murder you_ glare.

"If I were you," she began, a hint of warning in her tone, "I would not complete that sentence."

"I was merely going to say 'confident'," Robin mumbled.

They both knew he wasn't. Her sarcastic _"sure you were"_ put voice to that.

"I did not mean any offence," he started, not wanting to have caused this woman any reason to withdraw from him, he put a hand over his heart, vowing; "on my honour."

"And what is your honour worth?" she retorted.

"Hopefully enough for a second chance," Robin implored with a slight, optimistic grimace.

Her disbelieving frown puzzled him. "You believe in those?"

"I do." He admitted, keeping his reasoning firmly in the deep recesses of his brain in case this unpredictable woman drew them from him. "You don't?"

Her scoff answered before any words left her mouth. "Second chances are the dreams of an idiot."

"Well, it's nice to have hope, surely?" Robin prompted.

Her response was a deadpanned; "Hope is merely a four letter word used by naïve fools."

Taken aback at the sudden change in demeanour, Robin huffed. "Wow, who pissed you off?"

She looked at him then, a storm of emotions swirling behind her eyes. It made Robin want to know her, know her entire story from the beginning to the moment he sat down next to her.

Though in the blink of an eye her guards returned, and she seemed to remember that she was talking to stranger in a bar – god knew her reaction if she discovered that sat opposite her was a person who killed for a living.

Robin took note of the way she held herself, her straight posture and the way she seemed to exude grace and poise in everything she did. She looked strong, and not just in a physical manner; somehow Robin knew that she was most resilient, that she was one of those people that could handle all the things life decided to unfairly throw at them. And she did so with the beauty, sex appeal and hint of danger that had Robin drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

He watched as her attention was drawn away from him, her hands disappearing in her red clutch bag for a moment before she looked up at him, a slightly apologetic glance on her face.

"Excuse me whilst I visit the ladies'."

She stood, gracefully sliding off the stool to land on four inch stilettos with her clutch in hand.

Robin lightly grasped her elbow, offering a concerned; "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine," she smiled, patting his hand before she walked away. "Be right back."

She looked back at him twice on the journey around the bar – something Robin noted with a smile of his own.

He managed to signal to the woman behind the bar to walk over to him, intending to ask for a whiskey because _why not? One glass wouldn't hurt._ But when the waitress was a few steps away he noted his target seating himself the other side of the bar.

Well… There went his plans for a whiskey. Still, the fact that this man's death meant Robin could afford to buy the Noreen Sniper's rifle that he had wanted for months outweighed his current displeasure. Though when the barmaid's questioning gaze fell over him, the first non-alcoholic item he thought to ask for was a napkin, and Robin cursed his brain for its apparent unwillingness to _work_ properly.

 _Yes, that woman was definitely going to be the death of him._

Focusing on the edges of the cream, paper napkin, the indented dots along the edge, Robin mentally recounted the plan to murder Sidney Glass.

He had just reached the end – the hasty exit into his car parked two streets away – when his attention was drawn away, back to this beautiful woman that he was not likely to forget any time soon.

She was making her way back around to him, looking in her bag and not entirely looking where she was going. In her distraction she bumped right into Mr. Glass, and Robin chuckled at the irony of his personal life and profession life colliding so literally.

He watched her apologise with a killer smile before making her way back to him, and then noted Glass' eyes follow her on the journey back. Suddenly he wanted to eliminate his target with newfound vigour.

The red mist descending over his eyes dissipated when his focus was drawn back to the woman returning to sit opposite him, apparently still willing to spend time with him.

"Miss me?" She drawled.

"Didn't even realise you were gone," he quipped, but then she raised her eyebrow and he didn't even try to hide the soft amendment; "I did."

"Well aren't you a romantic?"

"Of course I am; I can't drive you away so soon."

"Who said you haven't?" She retorted; "Perhaps I just couldn't find any unlocked windows in the bathroom."

Robin narrowed his eyes, a playful display of annoyance to which the response was a throaty chuckle, the likes of which had Robin smiling and eager to draw it out again.

"You should smile more often," he stated, and when she turned to look at him with a somewhat dangerous look in her eye, Robin only smiled more, as if to show her how it was done.

"Maybe I smile all the time and you just bore me," she sassed, before taking another sip of her drink.

"Well then," Robin started. "What can I do to interest you?"

With a predatory grin, she asked; "What are you willing to do?"

"With you milady? Anything," he offered with a wink, feeling proud of the way – for the first time since he met her – the woman in front of him looked somewhat taken aback.

Robin turned his smug grin in Glass' direction, initially to just check he was still there but then he remembered the way the man's eyes had practically devoured the woman he was sat with, and the thought of wrapping his hands around his neck became very pleasing to him.

When Robin turned back to the woman in question, he was being stared at with those wide, beautiful eyes. Her look reminded him of the moment where pieces of his plans fell together or when he had found the answer that he didn't know he was looking for. He was not entirely sure if he should be fearful or excited.

"Are you looking at me like that for a reason?" he inquired.

"No, no reason," she smiled in a way that belied her words. "Why? Am I scaring you?"

Robin lifted his chin, subconsciously puffing out his chest a little, proclaiming; "I don't scare easily."

"That's not what I asked." She leant forwards, entering his personal space, and although her gaze dropped to his lips as she tilted her head, Robin felt a little different than when she had done the same thing a short while back. "Do I scare you?"

Robin thought about it for a moment.

She was unpredictable, definitely. And she sure as hell kept him on his toes, not giving enough away to let him get a proper read of her. He wasn't entirely sure who had the upper hand here, though he was helpless to do anything but stay and let himself be tangled up in her allure.

Did that make him feel uneasy? Yes.

Did that scare him? "No."

She looked somewhat impressed when her gaze returned to his eyes, and Robin couldn't help but feel as if he had passed an undisclosed test. "I'll have to do something about that."

Robin _hmm'd,_ choosing to lean even closer to her, his fingertips just brushing the back of her hand that was over the edge of the bar. "That sounds as if it could work in my favour."

"Oh, you have no idea," she breathed, her voice low, filling his mind with _so many_ ideas that were so far from appropriate he should be arrested for public indecency already.

He was about to retort, to find something hot and sexy to say in an attempt to affect her as much as she had him, but in his peripheral vision he saw Mr. Glass stand, thumping his chest with his fist as he tried to soothe the bout of coughs that had seized him, then making his way to the restroom several metres away from him.

Robin clenched his jaw, he could add _ruining an opportunity to take his flirting a little further_ to the list of things Mr. Glass had done to warrant his death.

"I need to nip to the gents'," he started, standing from his stool and throwing his jacket over his arm. "Are you going to be here when I get back?"

"If you're lucky," she smiled.

Robin left with a smirk, feeling very lucky indeed. If she was still there, maybe after working hard he could play harder. God knows it had been a while.

He made his way towards the bathroom, his fingers in one of his trouser pockets, loosely wrapped around the small blade he had there. He spent his footsteps up to the door slotting into the right mind-set. He was no longer the gentleman flirting with the lady at the bar; he was the assassin preparing to kill his target. A professional.

The moment he entered the men's room, his instincts were on high alert; something was not right. When Robin took a few cautious steps further, he soon discovered why.

Mr Glass was sprawled lifeless on the floor, head pointing towards the bowl of the first of the three toilets, his hand resting atop his smashed phone.

Dead.

Robin's insatiable curiosity won out, and instead of leaving the scene to minimise the risk of getting caught, he rounded the man in front of him, trying not to focus on the nauseating smell of vomit and instead trying to work out what the hell had happened.

He took note of the petichiae in his eyes and the blue tinge to his skin, asphyxiation coming to the forefront of Robin's mind, but then he noted a spot of blood on his collar, and when he lined it up to find an identical mark on the man's neck about the size of a needle, it all started to fit together.

Robin glared and huffed when he realised they did it again; yet another target that he was beaten to.

One of these days he would find out who kept besting him. He would greet them with either a shake of their hand or a punch to the face, Robin wasn't quite sure which yet.

But whoever it was couldn't have gone far, perhaps Robin even had a chance to catch up with them. It wasn't usually difficult to note somebody in the same profession as him; they tended to draw each other in. They held themselves a certain way, could blend in well but yet attract the right kind of attention, maintain a conversation without giving anything too personal away, exude skill and confidence in everything…

Robin frowned, his brows furrowing together as all the pieces clicked and then _holy shit!_

He walked out of the bathroom at a reasonable pace to avoid drawing any suspicion, just remembering to angle his head away from the CCTV in time before heading back to the bar – making his way as fast as he could without attracting any unwanted attention to himself.

She was not in her seat. Or in any seat. Though he saw a flash of red in the doorway, and whether it was her clutch or not it was the best thing he had. So he set off after his new lead, vowing to not let her get away – though for entirely different reasons than he originally had in mind.

As he raced through the foyer, he was close enough to catch a quick glimpse that proved it was definitely her that he was chasing, but as soon as the outside air filled his lungs she was gone again.

Robin was left breathing heavily and clenching his fists.

With a sigh of frustration he shrugged on his jacket and shoved his hands in his pockets, huffing air out of his nose and grinding his jaw. He paused when his right pocket felt different from the left, and he felt something soft across his knuckles and the back of his hand.

Robin frowned before he looked down, watching as his hand pulled out the napkin which had replaced his whiskey, the one he did not remember putting in his jacket at all.

He flipped it over, eyes immediately drawn to the red imprint of lips in the corner before he took note of the words scrawled in perfect penmanship in a diagonal line from corner to corner.

 _Better luck next time,_

The small ' _x_ ' underneath made Robin scoff.

'Next time'? If she expected to get away with taking his target again she was sadly mistaken.

He knew who she was now.

Next time he'd have her. And he wouldn't let her get away from him so easily.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, this chapter carries a tiny little violence warning, but to be fair, this is an assassin AU; it's not going to be rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers. Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter, I'm so incredibly sorry if I haven't replied to you but I've had a lot going on, I just want to let you know that it's very much appreciated, cheers my lovelies.**

 **xXx**

…

After the failed assassination of Sidney Glass, Robin had gotten quite the metaphorical kick up the backside from his employer – with orders to complete his next mission successfully unless he wanted to be relegated to more menial tasks. The hot assassin refusing to leave his thoughts hadn't really seemed worth all the trouble after that little conversation.

Nevertheless, it had only made Robin more determined to drop George King without any hitches. He'd planned to complete the op in a minute; get in, shoot the bastard, get out. As he screwed on his silencer he mused that there wouldn't even be enough time for anything to go wrong.

The theory was good.

From his position crouched behind an industrial dumpster, the night providing more than adequate cover, he heard a voice that he recognised, one that had drawn him in from the first words she had spoken.

With a quiet groan he sank back into the wall, trying to decide how to deal with this woman _a second time._

She wouldn't get his target again. He'd make sure of that.

Originally, he thought she was talking to herself, perhaps going through her plan out loud as a way to prepare – though not a very confidential one – but as she got a little closer he could hear the faint noises of someone responding, their voice electronically distorted through a mobile phone.

He vaguely listened to her words, choosing to concentrate on working out a way to get to his target first whilst the competition was currently pacing somewhere between him and the doorway he intended to use.

When her voice started becoming fainter as she walked away, he stood, slowly and quietly making his way to the dumpster a little further up the opposite wall. Just as he got there and started to crouch again, she turned back around, her sentence cutting off as she saw him in the shadows and automatically reached for the gun holstered to her hip.

The reflex to hold his hands up in surrender did nothing to halt her pointing the gun at his chest, only when he gingerly stepped forwards into the streetlight did her grip loosen as recognition dawned.

"You..." she breathed, her voice carrying a hint of surprise as her brows drew together in that cute frown of hers.

"Me," Robin responded, putting his hands into his pockets as he grinned and delivered a bright; "hi."

Her frown morphed into a glare.

"I'll call you back," she declared into her phone, pocketing the device then raising her hand to support the one already holding her sig. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to take a wild guess, and say; the same thing you are," Robin answered, before elaborating; "George King?"

Her lips pursed in frustration as she huffed, eyeing him as if she was in the same battle of trying to work out what to do with a fellow assassin as he was.

Robin just hoped she wasn't trigger happy.

"Could you possibly lower your gun?" he asked, before adding; "I promise I won't try to shoot you if you offer me the same courtesy."

Her head tilted as she narrowed her eyes, contemplating his proposition before finally relenting and slowly holstering her weapon.

"There we are," Robin gibed, "now we can talk like proper adults."

"Are you trying to provoke me?" she quipped, unamused.

"Not at all, milady; I merely feel more at ease when I don't have a gun aimed at me."

"You better leave then," she retorted, before lifting her chin and declaring; "King is mine."

"If I go back to my employer without completing this kill, he's going to kill _me_."

"Sucks to be you," she teased with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Listen-" Robin started, pausing in the hopes of her filling in her name but continuing when her only response was to raise an eyebrow; "I'll make you a deal: I get King, you get the next one."

Robin mentally crossed his fingers, praying to whatever higher being that may or may not exist that he wouldn't have to go back and explain that he had been bested once again.

"I don't make deals," she stated, and Robin felt his stomach drop.

He tilted his head, turning on the charm with a smirk as he drawled; "not even one?"

Her reply was a deadpanned; "No."

Relenting, Robin stood straight again with a huff. "How come?"

"There always seems to be a loophole that screws me over," she confessed, her voice becoming a little distant for a moment and having Robin subconsciously wanting to reach out to her.

"The last thing I want to do is screw you over, milady," he assured, knowing that making deals always seemed to come with a price. Although he became slightly concerned at the sudden smirk appearing on her face.

"No; you just want to screw me," she quipped, her voice taking on that smoky quality it had the last time he saw her.

He couldn't help the deep chuckle that escaped his throat.

Well… He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind.

Nevertheless, it wasn't as if he'd admit that now he knew who she was; "the fact that you're the one who has been making life difficult for me lately has somewhat lessened any desire to do so."

She pursed her lips and delivered a mocking; "you sound pissed."

"I am pissed."

"Are you pissed because I keep doing your job better than you?" she asked, before her expression turned sly as she added; "or are you pissed because you didn't get laid?"

If Robin was being honest it was a little of both, but in all fairness, he was more pissed at his ego taking a knock than not knocking hips. And the fact that the competition was a _woman…_ A part of him couldn't help but feel slightly inadequate.

Her head tilted when he didn't answer, her weight shifting to one side as she cocked her hip in a way that drew attention to her curves.

 _Now was not the best time to think about that_ , Robin scolded himself, _especially mid 'negotiation'._

"Will you stop taking my targets?" He asked, his voice a little more pleading than he had intended.

"Sure," she smiled, and Robin frowned at her sudden agreement before the other penny dropped; "Just go and find ones I haven't gotten to first."

He could barely contain his frustrated growl. _Damn_.

"I need King," Robin stated, pushing flirting aside until he could guarantee not getting his ass reamed by his boss.

Apparently, his opposition wasn't willing to back down. "As do I."

"Why do _you_ need him?"

"That's classified," she drawled, clearly enjoying his groan as he fought the temptation to kick the dumpster behind him. "And if you don't mind; I really should be going inside…"

"I do mind," Robin interjected, stepping into her path when she began to make her way towards the side entrance.

She rolled her eyes with a sigh, taking a step to the left and sighing again when he stepped with her, blocking her path once more.

Robin felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder, aiming at keeping him in place as she moved back to where she started. He ended up raising his hand to wrap around her wrist, keeping her tethered to him.

"I _need_ this target," he tried again, his imploring eyes boring into hers to try and assuage her determination.

For a moment it appeared to work, her glare softening and her shoulders minutely dropping as she started to relent.

Robin almost punched the air in victory when she finally offered; "I get to talk to him, you get the kill shot."

He managed to stay reserved in his celebrations – he was a professional after all – and grinned as he stated; "works for me."

The corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile, and his calloused thumb started subconsciously tracing small circles on the inside of her wrist.

"I won't be long," she said, her voice low in the quiet of the alleyway. "Wait here."

"You're pretty confident in your inquisitorial skills," Robin observed.

She leaned forwards, rising onto her toes to place her lips against the shell of his ear, sultrily whispering; "I'm damn good."

When she pulled back it was with a flirty smile, the darkness in her eyes having Robin imagining everything else he knew she would be _damn good_ at. His teeth sank into his lower lip as he grinned at her, wishing for them to stay in this easy moment before the reality of being each other's opposition set in.

When she started to withdraw, Robin tightened his grip on her wrist, their content smiles fading as the atmosphere shifted.

"I'm trusting you here," Robin stated, his blue eyes boring into her chocolate ones.

"Oh, you don't want to do that," she drawled, before winking as her smirk returned.

The grip Robin had on her wrist loosened, and her hand fell away, her fingertips trailing down his chest before she tucked her thumb in the belt-loop of her jeans.

"Tell you what," she started, walking backwards towards the door, "I'll even sedate him for you."

Robin scoffed. "Isn't that noble of you?"

"Well, we wouldn't want you to hurt your brain trying to hit a moving target now, would we?"

With a roll of his eyes, Robin pursed his lips together, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his trousers as he watched her remove her gun from her holster, move it to the small of her back and open the door.

"Try not to miss me too much," she teased.

And then she was gone, leaving Robin with nothing but his thoughts in a dingy alleyway.

…

After five minutes of pacing, Robin got bored, slumping against the wall opposite the door and folding his arms, his foot tapping an unknown rhythm on the ground as his tongue clicked a beat.

After ten minutes, he lowered himself to the ground, taking out his phone and attempting to best his high score on _Shades_ and growling in frustration whenever his blocks piled to the top of the screen.

After twenty minutes, he gave in, pocketing his phone and letting his thoughts return to the woman currently 'talking' to his target about god knows what.

She was something different. That was clear from the moment he met her. There weren't a lot of people who could challenge him as much as she had, and certainly not in a way Robin enjoyed so much. He had to admit, going toe-to-toe with this woman ignited a feeling inside of him that he had no business dwelling on. Robin wasn't sure if it was excitement, anger, lust, somewhere in between or a combination of all three, but it was an addictive mix. Something that already had him working out a way to meet her again after the day was over.

Perhaps they could become partners of sorts, or uneasy allies at the very least. She had faith in her abilities, and from the damage she had caused at his agency over the past few months, only a fool would underestimate her. And Robin was no fool. She'd be a valuable asset, and if they could take out dirty senators and corrupted federal directors on their own, he could only imagine the trouble they could cause if they worked together.

She had seemed to be pretty amenable to helping him out this time; of course he had been one step away from pleading, but that was beside the point. Although he was now in a position of owing her – a loss of power his employer had frequently instructed them to avoid – Robin hoped that she'd be less likely to make his life living hell whenever they chased after the same target again.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he heard from ahead of him.

Robin's head snapped up, his hand automatically reaching for his ankle holster before he met the amused eyes and the smug smirk of the assassin he was currently pondering on.

She didn't wait for a response before she removed a shirt that was hanging over her arm, fishing something out of her pocket as she walked over to the dumpster he had originally been crouched behind.

Robin stood, watching as her fingers drew out a lighter – a metal one with an intricate design covering the front and back – her thumb flipping the lid and producing a flame that she held out under the clothing in her hand. The material quickly caught alight, then was deposited into the trash to burn, a small plume of smoke rising and dissipating in the air.

"He's all yours," she declared as she walked towards him, her hand rising to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

"You've got- um…" Robin started, gesturing to his right hand and then to hers.

She looked down, and sure enough, there was a stripe of dried blood traversing her knuckles and the backs of her fingers. The childish scowl that appeared on her face had Robin pursing his lips and trying not to smile, and as her thumbnail scratched her skin clean, he took the time to memorise her features. The long lashes, the perfect brows, the full lips, the enigmatic scar… She was someone he could gaze at for hours and still find just as beautiful.

"You're staring at me again," she said, not even raising her head.

"Indeed I am," Robin admitted – well, there was no sense in denying it – before shamelessly raking his eyes over her figure.

She looked up at him with a smirk, raising a brow and quipping; "are you quite finished?"

"Nope," Robin grinned, before adding a mischievous; "turn around."

The fist colliding with his shoulder was worth it.

"When you're done ogling me, there's a little present left for you in George King's office," she stated.

"Oh, I love presents," Robin mocked in an overly enthusiastic manner, complete with his hands clasped in front of him.

"You're an idiot," she chuckled, before starting to walk away.

Robin's grin faded as he called for her to 'wait', inquiring; "I'll see you again?"

Her response was a smile and a warm; "If you're lucky."

"You mean if _you_ are," he countered, catching her teeth sinking into her lip before she ducked her head and turned away from him, walking onto the street and out of his line of sight.

It was only when his lip started to hurt that he realised he had bitten his too, in a pathetic attempt to stifle the grin that was making his cheeks ache.

His smile didn't really fade in the time it took him to climb two flights of stairs and make his way towards the office where George King had been working, though his mouth downturned when he caught sight of the postit note stuck to the man's door.

 _Couldn't resist,_

 _Sorry, :D_

 _X_

Robin tore the note off, scrunching it in his hand and shoving it in his pocket.

 _She wouldn't… she didn't…_

After opening the door, it took one look at the man bound and gagged in his chair to realise; _she would, and she did._

George King was very much dead.

And from the sorry state of him, he had been given a good once over too.

There were streaks of red down the front of his crisp, oxford shirt, the result of his nose having clearly been broken. The glass pane of his table had been shattered, concentric fractures spiralling outwards from where his head had collided with it. The fingers resting over the ends of his armrest were unnaturally bent, some with bloodied nails or knuckles. His pinstripe trousers had symmetrical, blackened holes either side of his knees where a gun had been fired into the joint…

It appeared he had not been very forthcoming with information.

Nevertheless, she got what she came for.

Robin couldn't be sure if that included making his life hell again, or giving him this crazy notion that they could actually work together and not want to kill each other.

In all fairness, she had told him not to count on her. Now he'd listen.

Note to self; don't trust the hot assassin.

…

As expected, Robin spent the next two weeks filling out paperwork, prepping for missions that he didn't have a chance of going on and watching his friend, John, being sent out to kill the targets he should have been given.

His friend managed to bring back proof of his kill for all eight of his assigned hits, and Robin had to wonder if the hot assassin only had a vendetta against _him_.

It was uncalled for; he hadn't done anything to her and yet she refused to leave him be. He couldn't be sure if she was following him – though he should have known that she wasn't; he always took precautions against that kind of thing – but he swore he would see her face from day to day. If he didn't know better he'd say she was mocking him, or at least the thought of her was.

The fifteenth day – when he could finally get back out there and do his job – could not come quick enough; one more moment spent with an overly chipper Will Scarlet would have him starting to shoot the staff.

It wasn't a particularly difficult hit; he could most likely do it in his sleep. That is if his target wasn't already asleep in the first place. In the two days Robin had spent scouting Walter out and trying to work out the best way to make his death appear accidental, the man had frequently fallen asleep on the job – not ideal for a security guard.

Robin had a limited time window this time; however long it took for Walter to pick up his work clothes from dry cleaning. He'd planned to rig his car to blow; to walk past, 'drop something' and quickly fix a discreet bomb underneath the fuel tank before he 'found it' and carried on.

When Walter's little Clio pulled up at the side of the road, Robin stood from his position at the bus shelter and started to move down the sidewalk. He was only a few steps away when he saw a classic Mercedes SL park in the space ahead, his head tilting as he admired the vehicle for a moment.

The driver's door opened and Robin immediately noted the killer heel that hit the pavement, the toned leg attached to it bare up to mid-thigh until the driver stood and her black pencil skirt fell to just above her knee. Raven hair flittered in the evening breeze, designer sunglasses reflected the setting sun. Her hand slid over the car door as she stepped away, her elegant fingers tracing along the edge before she pushed it shut, the sound pulling Robin from the temporary trance he seemed to have found himself in.

He knew who the woman was before she even turned to face him.

 _Ah, hell no. Not again._

The hot-blooded part of Robin that noticed the tantalising curves and tempting skin slipped into darkness as the professional assassin part reigned supreme, working out what type of blow to her would be acceptable for all the suffering he had put up with for the last two weeks.

It appeared as if he was about to suffer more, if her path towards the dry cleaners Walter had just entered was any indication.

Robin resumed his journey down the sidewalk, though the target in his mind was not the one he had been assigned. She was not going to get this one. He was not going back to bloody paperwork. He just wasn't.

He was just about to reach for the door when a hand on his arm stopped him. He barely calmed himself down enough to not draw his weapon on them. And when he noted that it was an elderly lady, with the stereotypical grey hair pinned back and glasses perched on the end of the nose, it was probably a good thing he held back; he wouldn't want to explain why he had given the woman a coronary.

"Excuse me," she started, "could you tell me the time? I'm afraid my watch is broken."

"It's 8:15 in the evening," Robin provided after checking his own watch, before glancing inside the dry cleaners to see his target conversing with his competition.

He barely stuck around to hear the 'thank you,' before he was pulling the door open, colliding with the woman he had once hoped to see again, and now just meant trouble.

Robin's hand grasped her elbow, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her a little down the path to behind a bus stop, turning her and pushing her against the Perspex housing advertisement for _Gus' Mechanical Autoshop._

"You-" he started, his frustration leaving his words stuck in his throat.

"Me," she responded, grinning and mocking his greeting from a fortnight ago with a bright; "hi."

To say Robin wasn't impressed would be an understatement.

"You killed George King."

She at least had the guile to look _somewhat_ contrite as she quietly admitted; "I did."

"Are you planning on killing Walter?" He asked, daring her to say 'yes'.

Her reply of " _nope_ " still surprised him though.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow and glared at her. "So you just happen to go into the only drycleaners he uses on the day I had been sent there?"

"Isn't fate a bitch?" she commented, one shoulder rising nonchalantly.

Robin scoffed. "We're fated to meet now?"

"You're fated to get in my way," she stated.

"No; you're fated to get in _mine_."

"It's not my fault you choose the wrong targets," she quipped, and the grip he still had on her arm grew a little tighter.

"It is your fault that I've been on desk duty the past two weeks," Robin snapped, noting Walter getting back in his car and moving away. _Damn_.

She smirked, looking more amused than apologetic when she delivered a mocking; "oops."

"After last time, you owe me."

"Actually, no can do," she started, before declaring; "Walter is already dead."

"He drove away pretty fine for a dead guy," Robin growled.

"Well he doesn't know he's dead yet," she informed. Upon completion of her final syllable, there was the sound of screeching tires, a loud smash and a few screams from passers-by. "Now he does."

Robin's jaw clenched and he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the urge to do something reckless. It took a few deep breaths before he felt as if he could look at the woman in front of him without shooting her.

" _You_ ," he started, pointing a finger at her, "are making life incredibly hard for me."

She smirked, and instead of offering anything resembling condolences, she drawled; "and here was me thinking that was just a gun in your pocket."

It was the final straw for Robin. All the restraint he had been clinging onto crumbled into nothing, and before he could process what he was doing, his hand was on her neck and he was taking a step into her.

He hadn't put enough pressure behind his actions to hurt her – something he'd ponder on later – but it was enough to wipe that frustrating smirk off of her face and onto his. Her hands gripped his arm and he awaited an insult, a threat or a sassy remark, but none came. _Not such a smart ass now, was she?_

"The next time we are chasing after the same target, you are going to back down," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

"And if I don't?" she challenged.

Robin's smirk grew as his face moved a little closer to hers, whispering; "I'm an assassin; I have nothing against hitting a woman."

Her face hardened and Robin felt her swallow under his hand. The look in her eyes had him wondering if he had gone a tiny step too far, but for all the times she had one-upped him it was about time he won one of their unspoken battles.

"Fine," she mumbled, her voice only slightly strained.

The surprise must have shown on Robin's face as her smirk returned, albeit not as prominent as before.

His gaze turned sceptical at her sudden agreement as he murmured; "Thank you."

Her acknowledging nod was serious, and Robin somehow knew that this time she would be a woman of her word, and his grip on her relented.

Robin's hand lingered at the base of her neck, his breath ghosting over her cheeks and fingertips pressing against her warm skin as her eyes fluttered closed. He took her momentary distraction to stare at her again, his eyes gravitating to the full lips mere inches away from his as he tried not to make that distance any smaller.

When one of her hands trailed up his arm to meet the one he had on her neck, he expected her to attack, to fight back, to bend his wrist until it snapped… He didn't expect her to lightly trace over his knuckles, or for her to exhale as she sank a little more into the hard surface she was pressed against.

Robin leaned forward, putting the slightest extra pressure against her skin and moving his lips to hover over hers, their uneven breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Her other hand moved to rest against his chest, her fingertips digging into the skin over his heart.

His eyes closed as he felt the warmth seep through his shirt, something inside him igniting as he felt her breaths dry his lips. When he swiped his tongue from one corner of his mouth to the other he caught her lower lip, and the growl caught in his throat escaped when her nails dug into his chest.

The distance between them dwindled into almost nothing, all of Robin's sense disappearing as he started to indulge the inexplicable pull between him and this unique woman he didn't even know.

His mouth _just_ brushed hers, slightly catching on her bottom lip and drawing an involuntary breath from both of them before-

"Get a room!"

The two split apart, taking a couple of seconds longer to come back to their surroundings than was acceptable before they noticed the two kids a few meters away from them.

The girl – the elder of the two – elbowed the boy next to her, whispering some kind of chastisement before she turned back and apologised; "sorry for my brother, he doesn't really have any manners."

Robin was still working on the whole _forming sentences_ thing, so he was grateful when he heard a breathy " _it's fine_ ," from beside him.

"Ok," the girl smiled, her blonde curly hair fluttering in front of her face as she held a hand out to the side to her younger brother, "come on, we don't want to miss the bus."

The kids walked around to the other side of the bus shelter, leaving the two adults to look between them somewhat awkwardly. Though despite the tension in the air, the quiet " _I should go_ ," still had Robin wanting to protest otherwise.

It took the woman starting to walk back towards her car before Robin jogged after her with a call of; "wait!"

He caught her hand just as she fished her keys out of the bag slung over her shoulder.

She turned to him with an expectant look in her eyes, and his other hand joined the one already holding hers.

"Tell me your name," Robin breathed, hoping to finally know something about the woman who seemingly had him drawn to her without even realising.

She looked torn for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip before she compromised with; "next time."

"There'll be a next time?" Robin asked, though it sounded more like a statement. When she went to open her mouth to respond he beat her to it; "If I'm lucky?"

A smile grew on her lips as she slowly shook her head.

"If _I'm_ lucky."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, so** _ **huuuuge**_ **apologies for not updating anything for a while, but I've been spending a lot of time on this other project that I have ongoing, and I needed to work out where this fic was heading too – because I was writing blind and I didn't like it.**

 **But I now have a plot so things are good, and I know this is rather short, but I couldn't find anything else to add without doubling the word count, so I just thought I'd update this now.**

 **I'm rambling, sorry.**

 **Anyway, I hope you all like it, drop me a review or whatever if you can, and thank you for sticking with me :D**

…

There were few things that Robin Locksley completely abhorred, and - being someone who had chosen to kill for a living - any person he found to be involved in said things wouldn't even know what hit them.

One of those; people who mistreated children.

From the moment a baby entered the world, they were innocent. They deserved no pain, no suffering, and if they were raised right, then they would grow to become people who deserved nothing less than happiness. It was life that hardened them, changed them into people capable of hurting others, hurting themselves, taking lives… It was life that screwed them over and forced their hand. And the people who played a part in ruining a childhood… They deserved everything Robin would do to them.

He might have been a little harsh on them now and again, but, well… he hoped that if he protected enough children from the cruelness of the world, perhaps he could atone for not protecting his own when he had the chance.

It wouldn't do to dwell on it, Robin knew that, but after nearly four years of countless efforts to find his boy and hitting nothing but dead ends, it was becoming easier to lose hope of ever seeing him again.

He was a father without a son, and despite being granted use of his employer's resources - that were slowly dwindling down anyway - that fact did not appear to be any closer to changing.

Throwing himself into his work, building contacts, gaining skills… It all seemed beneficial to retrieving his son from whoever took him. Of course, over time, the job became seductive; good pay, making a difference, the allure of taking the law into one's own hands…

And he was good at it too; an effective hunter, talented with weapons, professional in all aspects of the job…

Until it came to little miss hot assassin…

Just the thought of her had his blood pressure rising. Lord knows she had gotten under his skin; she had eased herself into his thoughts, that sassy, sexy, sinful woman, and she had driven him to the edge of insanity.

And she seemed to make it her mission to appear whenever he least wanted an interference; at the bar when he wanted to kill Sidney Glass, outside _King's Law Firm_ when he wanted to kill George King, outside the dry cleaners when he wanted to kill Walter Napton…

And now? She was at The Langham Hotel when he wanted to kill Rosina Leckermaul.

 _Damn that woman._

She was sat in the lobby with a newspaper, her eyes drifting to the elevators at the other side of the foyer every time the doors opened. Robin didn't even need to ask what she was doing there; she was here to make his life difficult again.

Though the immediate irritation and frustration at her being there faded when he remembered that she had agreed to back down the next time they met, and that just left the excitement and anticipation of meeting this woman again having him bite his lip.

He had no idea how she managed to look so prim and pristine all the time, but she had managed it again. An unfastened black trench coat hung open at her sides, framing the blue dress that clung to her curves, and of course the heels that were completely impractical but did _marvellous_ things to her legs that he was one step away from drooling over anyway.

He walked over as quiet as he could then pushed the top of the newspaper down, smiling when she jumped in her chair and tried to mask her startled expression with a glare. He grinned as he sat in the seat perpendicular to hers, interlocking his fingers and resting them over his stomach, delivering a cheerful; "hi."

Her responding " _hello_ " was considerably less bright, and Robin grinned all the more.

"So…" he started, leaning forwards and resting his elbow on his knee so he could talk in hushed tones, "you're here for…?"

"You know damn well I'm here for Ms Leckermaul," she snapped as she folded the newspaper and threw it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Not anymore you're not," Robin declared with a smirk. "You said you'd give up the next one, remember?"

The way her nostrils flared as she ground her teeth together in frustration struck up a feeling of victory inside Robin.

 _Damn_ it felt good to one-up her.

Her irritated gaze fell to the floor. Though when her eyes returned to his after she had taken a deep breath, they held an expression that had Robin taking a deep breath of his own.

She uncrossed her legs and leaned towards him, shifting to the edge of her seat, and Robin had to fight not to let his gaze fall to the low neckline or the hem rising up her thighs.

"Is there nothing I could offer you instead?" She drawled, having Robin almost growling 'yes' and jumping her right then.

But he knew what she was up to – had played the same game himself more than once – and he would not fall victim to her charms. He held back, internalised everything and kept his exterior cool as he humoured her; "What did you have in mind?"

"Depends on what you're into," she quipped, mischief dancing behind her eyes.

Oh, he'd like to know what _she_ was into. But he had a job to do; he needed to kill that witch who had an affinity for destroying children. He couldn't let anyone distract him. Not even if they were hot as fuck and offering themselves as consolation for killing his target once again.

"You want to know what I'm into?" Robin asked, lowering his voice and leaning forwards until there was not a foot between them. He felt victorious at the hitch in her breath and the glance down to his lips. He hated to burst her _I'm-so-irresistible_ bubble, but he took a little pleasure in the way her face froze when he quipped; "I'm into doing my job and getting paid for it."

Her lips pursed to the side in an unimpressed glare. She huffed and sat back in her chair, closing the front of her coat around her and crossing her legs again, shrugging and declaring an indifferent; "It was worth a shot."

Robin smirked. "Afraid I'm not that easily distracted, Milady."

"I shall have to try harder next time."

"I look forward to that," he grinned.

"Of course you do."

Robin's eyes fell back down, roaming over the black coat hiding all the skin that had been displayed for him mere moments ago.

" _No_ ," she teased, sitting up and directing his gaze back to her face with a finger under his chin. "If you don't want to touch, you shouldn't look."

"I never said I didn't want to touch, Milady," Robin offered without missing a beat.

He removed her hand from under his chin and held it, his gaze falling to her lips - which she swiped with her tongue, probably to rile him on purpose.

Her smirk reminded him to look back in her eyes, but when he did, she was staring at his mouth and he'd be damned if he didn't use this opportunity to his advantage. He dug his teeth into his lower lip, slowly letting the flesh go then smirking as the woman staring at him couldn't help but take in a breath before returning her gaze to meet his.

Her smirk mirrored his, and Robin felt himself starting to lean closer.

The buzzing of the phone in his pocket pulled them both out of the moment, and Robin cursed whoever was checking up on him.

Pulling his phone out and resting his forearms on his knees, he checked the message and sender.

It was John. Typical.

 _Boss is in a bad mood today, Robin. You better get this one to save us all._

Well, that settled it; little miss hot assassin wasn't getting Leckermaul. She'd have to kill him first. And judging by the unusually bright smile on her face, she wasn't feeling all that murderous at that moment.

She grinned even more as she leaned even further towards him, though this grin was more of the victorious than the seductive, and it incited a little twinge of fear inside him.

"So… _Robin…_ " she started, drawling out her words in a way that had him swallowing and forgetting that she now held the upper hand once again. "You should tell your friends to be less liberal with your name."

Stuck for any other quip – and still recovering from the way his name sounded in her sultry voice – Robin fell back on the childish, immature response of; "at least I have friends."

He regretted it when there was a flash of pain behind the beautiful, chocolate eyes he had been staring into a few moments ago.

She recovered quickly though, snapping a sassy; "I can't fathom why."

The easy atmosphere had gone, the woman once playing the seduction card now gripping the sleeves of her coat and staring at her discarded newspaper. Robin could have kicked himself.

"So, I get all the targets from now on, right?" Robin prompted, not expecting her to agree in the slightest, but hoping that pulling her back into their banter would help return her smile. She seemed to enjoy taking him down a peg or two, and he'd put up with it if it returned her smile.

"No," she declared - as expected - before adding; "this is the only target I'm allowing you to have. The rest you can fight me for."

Robin scoffed. "You think I'm going to allow myself to get beaten by a girl?"

" _Woman_ ," she corrected with a glare. "And you already have been."

"Well it's not going to happen again," Robin assured.

"Want to bet on that?" She teased, and the smile gracing the corners of her lips brought a silent sigh of relief from him; he hadn't cocked everything up. Yet.

Though whilst they were on the topic, he could at least try and wring out another gold star from his employer. "I need these targets."

Of course it wasn't that easy; "As do I."

"You can get the money for them elsewhere," Robin tried, a hint of questioning in his tone.

"It's not about the money."

Robin was rather taken aback by her response. If it wasn't about the money… "Then what is it about?"

After a second or two of deliberation she confessed; "Killing these people _my way_ pisses of someone I hate."

Robin smiled. "Ah, so this is some kind of petty war."

"It is _not_ petty!" She snapped, and suddenly there was a look in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. One that scared him.

Whatever was going on between the person she wanted to piss off and little miss hot assassin herself, it was something more than he had first assumed. And from the sudden darkness and bloodlust in her eyes, there was hell to pay.

Robin's curiosity got the better of him and he couldn't help but tentatively ask; "What did they do?"

The response was a curt; "That's none of your concern."

And of course it wasn't, why would it be? He was just some random competition getting in her way. He hadn't earned the right to any of her secrets. Though when she stood and smoothed out her dress, preparing to leave, Robin remembered that wasn't quite true; she had promised him her name at least.

Robin stood too, blocking the route between the gap in the two chairs that she appeared to have been planning to take.

"You didn't tell me your name," he stated.

"Didn't I? How about that?"

"Come on; tit for tat," Robin prompted.

"Robin," she started, proving her next jibe; "I already know your 'tat'."

"So show me your 'tit'," he responded in a beat, not thinking _in the slightest_ of how that would sound outside of his head. He grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that,"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't; the thought has never crossed your mind, right?"

"But of course not," he protested in what they both knew was clearly a lie, before he took a moment to lower his gaze and _obviously_ linger just to rile her. He looked up at her with a smirk, chuckling at her pursed lips and raised eyebrow forming an expression that was the definition of 'unimpressed'.

His chuckle brought forth a glare from her, and for some insane reason he just chuckled again.

"Well, now you've had your fun, I'm going to get going," she declared as she turned and started walking around the chairs the long way.

Robin quickly sobered, taking quick steps and reaching out to grab her hand to stop her from getting away.

"Sorry," he breathed, and _why is he apologising to this woman? He doesn't apologise, ever. And she started it!_ He allowed a pause for his unexpected apology to sink in before he asked again; "What's your name?"

The woman paused, clearly concerned about revealing that information. He felt the need to tell her she needn't worry; he wasn't going to cause damage, he just wanted to know a bit more about her. And besides, she knew his name now… It was only fair.

Robin's attention was caught by the sight of his thumb stroking over her knuckles - _when had he started doing that?_ Though rather than stopping as he should have done, he just memorised the softness of her skin, hoping she didn't notice and tear her hand away.

His voice turned soft as he pointed out; "You got Walter and King. I got the next target and your name. That was the deal."

"I don't make deals," she protested with a hint of warning in her tone.

"So you've said," Robin acknowledged with a nod of his head. "But you did say that you'd tell me."

"I did," she admitted. "Though in all fairness I was rather distracted at the time."

Robin hummed and smiled at the memory of his hand resting at the base of her neck as his lips hovered over hers, breathing her air.

Well… It was certainly one of the most pleasurable ways to negotiate.

The thought had him smiling even more and asking; "Do I have to nearly kiss you again for you to tell me?"

Robin watched her small smile fade as he took a step closer to her, her eyes dropping to his lips for a moment before rising to meet his gaze.

"What's your name?" He asked once more, his voice nearly a whisper.

She blinked and parted her lips, taking in a breath ready to speak when there was a loud, feminine shout of " _Regina!_ " from behind him.

The woman in front of him closed her mouth, rolled her eyes and huffed before looking over his shoulder at whoever had shouted across the hotel lobby.

A couple of seconds later there was a different woman at his side. Her blonde, curly hair pulled into a high ponytail, her green dress still floating from her journey over to them before it settled about her knees and another breathless " _Regina_ ," left the pink lips still stretched into a grin.

Robin turned back to face his hot assassin - who was now directing a glare at this new blonde - for an explanation.

"Regina," she stated as she turned to him, which didn't really help clear anything up; he had heard that twice already. His frown must have shown his confusion as she then rolled her eyes and stated; "my name is Regina."

 _Ah, ok._

Robin missed the next few words of the conversation between the two women, his head finally allocating a name to the face that had been on his mind for the past three weeks.

He was drawn back when the blonde mentioned the name of his target, stating that she had an interview with Rosina Leckermaul regarding the allegations of having children work for her in poor conditions, and the periods where she went off the grid and could not account for her whereabouts. The way she was talking, Robin assumed she was some kind of reporter, though reporters were one of the professions that assassins hated with a passion, so it rather confused Robin why his hot assassin seemed to have some sort of camaraderie with this one.

Regina - he finally knew her name - turned to the blonde with an apologetic smile, "that interview's not going ahead, Tink."

' _Tink'?_ That was her name? Honestly? What kind of undeserving parent would name their child _Tink_?

" _Seriously_?" The blonde exclaimed, before she was hushed by her friend. "You're going to kill _her_ too?"

" _I'm_ not," Regina stressed before she turned to look at Robin with a grin.

The new girl - Tink - turned to look at him with slight outrage in her eyes.

"Marvellous," he quipped. "Throw me under the bus, why don't you, milady?"

"Gladly," Regina grinned, and Robin couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Who's this?"

"Oh. Tink; Robin," Regina introduced, inclining her head, before she reversed it. "Robin; Tink."

The blonde's quizzical gaze switched back and forth between the pair. "Are you two together?"

There were dual scoffs and protestations of " _No!_ " which had no effect on the expression aimed at them.

Tink merely levelled a pointed glare at the both of them as she pointed out with a smug smile; "you're holding hands."

Robin looked down to notice that indeed, he still held Regina's hand in his; Tink's arrival had interrupted them and it simply hadn't occurred to him that he should let go.

Though Regina let go of his hand as if she had been burned, wiping her palms on the front of her coat as she turned away from him towards her friend.

"We should get going, Tink; Robin has a job to do."

He caught the teasing in her eyes, retorting; "Indeed I do, thanks to you Milady."

"By the way," she started with a glare, before she softened and leaned closer to him and spoke into his ear; "your target has just come down to the lobby, and she'll be here for about 6 minutes. Go get her."

Not bothering to ask what she had planned for the six minutes she had expected to be hers, Robin smiled at Regina, offering a warm; "I'll see you soon."

"The next one's mine," she reminded him before she grasped Tink's elbow and started walking away.

"What makes you think I'll give up so easily?" He shouted after her

"Because I'll be trying harder next time."

Her parting wink and grin were dangerous.

…

He was not entirely sure what prompted him to do so, but whilst following his boss' orders to make Leckermaul suffer before she died, he withdrew the information that Regina's friend wanted. Forming a list of the places Rosina had been when she had been off the grid, and drawing out a spoken confession of child abuse. The more information he knew, the more he had to restrain himself from _really_ letting loose.

His boss had seemed pleased with the results however, had even smiled - _god that was scary_. Though Robin had kept the extra information secret; he'd just find a way to send that to Tink as soon as he was back in his home. He was doubtful his behaviour would be deemed acceptable by his employer.

Which was where he was heading now. If the damn elevator arrived.

Watching the illuminated numbers count up to 4 got very boring rather quickly, though he was suddenly accompanied by a large man to his right, a man he'd know anywhere.

He sent a smile to John Little - an ironic name to say the least, given the man's size - before he remembered what his friend's text had interrupted, and that smile turned into a glare in the next fraction of a second.

 _How dare he?_

The tinny _ding_ of the elevator drew Robin out of his silent fuming. Then, as soon as the doors closed, Robin's vow to give his so-called mate the silent treatment until the next day ended.

John directed his stare back to the man next to him after his finger jabbed _G_ for the ground floor car park. "It's about damn time you got your target, Robin. One more missed one and boss man was going to turn into a beast."

"Well, I got my target," he gritted in response.

" _Finally_ ," John chuckled, oblivious to his friend's rising temper. "You gonna tell me why you keep failing?"

"I don't keep failing," he protested, before defending himself; "there's just another assassin who keeps getting there first."

"Yeah? Well you know if you just told the boss he'd get rid of them for you."

"No," Robin growled before he even realised. He just couldn't stomach the thought of his boss getting his hands on Regina. At John's puzzled stare, he amended himself; "she's not that bad."

" _She_?" John laughed, a hand to his rotund belly as he threw his head back. "Oh man, you got your ass kicked by a girl?"

"Woman," Robin corrected automatically. "And she's damn good."

John scoffed. "Yeah, well, when you get yourself torn a new one you can decide if she's worth it."

It only took a few seconds for Robin to come to the conclusion that she was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello my dears.**

 **So, after a brief hiatus I am returning to my multi-chaptered fics (and will likely start posting one I've been hoarding for over a year soon) so yeah, wish me luck on that.**

 **I think this fic will become something that I write as and when I need a break, or need something fun and enjoyable to relieve a little stress, so forgive me if this one seems to go a little slower than the others.**

 **Anyway, a huge thanks to my darling Buttercup (also known as RegalButterfly86) who has been my motivation for getting this done – and the marvellous person who checks for errors and typos that I miss. And this is kind of a very belated birthday present for Eva and Bea, two awesomely awesome people.**

 **Hope y'all like it, mwah.**

…

Two hours.

Two hours Robin had been sat on this uncomfortable, metal chair, listening to his boss tell him and his co-workers how to do their jobs - as if they hadn't been given this lecture a dozen times before.

This time was different though; the demeanour of the man pacing in front of them had the entire room on edge. Everyone kept schtum so as not to antagonise the beast and considerably shorten their life span; a lesson learned very soon into one's employment here - otherwise one didn't last very long.

The moment the room was dismissed with orders to be more competent if they wanted to remain working there - and an unspoken _'if you want to remain breathing'_ tagged onto the end that was heard very clearly - people jumped out of their chairs and made a hasty retreat to somewhere they weren't at risk of being crushed to dust for breathing too loudly.

Robin was one of the last out, and had just put his foot over the room's threshold when he heard his name being called.

Gritting his teeth and plastering a mask of indifference on his face, he turned back to his boss. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, you can Locksley; I need you to do something for me."

 _Ah, a covert job on the side. Wouldn't be the first._

Robin didn't get a chance to ask what was going on before he was told; "you're going to kill an old customer of mine, and you are not to talk about it to anyone other than myself. Clear?"

"Clear."

Robin listened intently to the instructions that followed, the long-range rifle he needed to purchase along with specialist ammo, the location of the weapons dealer and a quick rundown of his plans for his boss' 'old customer' Skylar Azul - referred to as the codename 'blue'.

He was to shoot her, a long range sniper shot using the gun and ammunition a local mercenary group had adopted as their signature. An 'anonymous' tip would be given to the police and - upon searching the leader's apartment - incriminating evidence would be found tying them to the crime.

A master manipulation.

Robin's boss may have been an asshole at times, but he was incredibly clever, he had to give him that.

…

It also appeared that his boss had strange taste in weapons dealers.

Well, not 'strange' per se, but definitely… Unorthodox.

The first thing Robin noted as he walked up to 'Queen Anne's Revenge' - which had Robin pulling a rather judgemental face anyway because _seriously? Who would call their place of business that? -_ was the traditional skull and crossbones flag protruding from above the door.

 _Damn Pirate wannabe,_ he scoffed.

Though actually, the interior looked… Not bad.

The walls were dark blue, the floors and furniture a dark wood, and yet there were light, cream cushions, and white tops to the tables and counters in the foyer. And at the waiting area to his left, a dark coffee table was placed in front of three wicker sofas facing away from the main access route through to the back rooms, and on the far wall was a mirror with an iron anchor fixed either side.

Robin rather liked the whole nautical theme. He wouldn't rush to redecorate his home that way, but he could certainly see the appeal in it - if it was done properly.

A quick scope around the place catalogued the three exits - front door, fire exit, back rooms - and possible cover in case anyone went ballistic - literally. Though Robin had only ever known one person who tried to rob a gun dealership, and they ended up with so many bulletholes through them that they were almost see-through. To say it hadn't been their best idea had been an understatement.

Of all the things Robin had stolen, guns had never really been high on the list. Fortunately, his money-loving employer spent a lot of his wealth on protection, either blackmail to keep him untouchable, or weapons to keep himself defendable. So Robin merely had to ask for a new weapon - and dress it up to suit his boss' needs - and he usually received.

He even thought about buying an extra weapon whilst he was here and using company money - but then if he couldn't provide a reasonable enough explanation once the money had been spent he'd likely be signing his own death warrant.

So perhaps not.

He'd just get what he came for and then leave.

On his way to the main counter, Robin saw a blonde woman in the waiting area with her back to him. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, giving him a sense of déjà vu, but he was not here to satisfy curiosity, and he was not interested in the clientele; this place was a 'no questions asked' kind of establishment and he didn't feel like making any more enemies.

He stepped towards the man at the desk, knowing he'd be the one to allow him into the back. He was fifteen minutes early but it was doubtful that the renowned Edward Thatch would mind getting a deal done a little early.

Robin couldn't help but wonder what came first; did the man make the best of an unfortunate name, or did he adopt the whole 'black-bearded-pirate' persona to become more intimidating? Whatever the guy's motives, Robin commended him; he certainly wouldn't be forgetting this place in a hurry.

Even the guy behind the desk looked like one of those first mates from the Peter Pan film, with the red cap, untrimmed beard, scruffy clothing... And, if Robin was being honest, he made the place rather untidy.

When Robin reached him, he cleared his throat, declaring; "I'm here for Edward Thatch."

"He's with a customer at the moment," the guy replied. "Take a seat for now."

Then he turned away, taking a couple of folders with him - presumably to deliver or file or something else mind-numbingly monotonous.

Robin drummed his fingers on the wooden desk, tapped his foot on the floor, clicked his tongue in an improvised rhythm…

He didn't do well with waiting.

Noting the guy in the red cap had not returned yet, Robin decided to just go ahead into the back. He'd just loiter until the customer was finished, and he could eye up the stock and see what was on offer whilst he did so.

The faint murmur of conversation became louder as he reached the doorway into the back room. Though there was no actual door; privacy here was provided through a black, mesh curtain.

Robin reached forward to create a parting he could get through, but just as his fingertips encountered the thin fabric, he heard a familiar voice. A low, feminine, sultry drawl that had been an element to his private fantasies more than once over the past few weeks - though he'd probably deny that if he was asked.

It was unmistakably...

 _Regina_.

A smirk grew on Robin's face as he slowly walked through the gap in black net, leaning against the jamb as his eyes sought her out.

She was dressed to kill, as she always seemed to be; black, skin-tight leather trousers, a biker jacket, and - of course - the red, fuck-me heels that she probably did _everything_ in.

Now… _There_ was an appealing thought…

In his distraction, Robin hadn't noticed that he had been spotted. Edward Thatch's beady eyes narrowed at him as he gripped the pistol holstered at his hip before realising that there was no immediate threat; his next client was just a little early.

"I shall only be a few minutes, feel free to wait outside," the man declared in his heavily accented tone. _He even sounded like a bloody pirate,_ Robin mused with a disbelieving chuckle.

Then Robin comprehended the thinly veiled order and huffed, until Regina turned around and looked for the interruption, her face tensing in annoyance when she recognised him.

Unable to resist annoying her further, Robin grinned and waved, delivering an overly saccharine, "hi!"

Her eyes narrowed at him. "'the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here to get my hair cut," he deadpanned, inwardly laughing at the exaggerated roll of her eyes.

The dealer looked from Robin to Regina then back again. "Do I spy a couple in me midst?"

Before Robin could even open his mouth to respond - though respond with _what_ he had no idea - Regina spoke up and retorted; "A couple of _rivals_ , yes. He's the competition."

"Well, Miss Mills was here first, so I'm afraid she beat you to it this time, son."

Robin smiled. Regina Mills. That was her full name. _It had only taken a month to find out_ , Robin mused.

"Oh, well in that case, I'll have to make a compromise with... Miss Mills," he teased, lowering his voice to utter her name, enjoying the way it sounded in his mouth more than he should.

She glared at him, no doubt uncomfortable about him knowing more about her than she knew about him. He smirked back, feeling momentarily high on power, though his upper-hand lasted all of two seconds before it was taken away from him.

"Mr Locksley, I doubt Miss Mills is the type to compromise."

 _Blasted pirate._ The sudden glee in Regina's eyes diminished Robin's smirk entirely.

Having seemingly no idea of the power-play occurring before him, the weapons dealer continued: "I have tried many a time and promptly failed."

"All due respect," Robin started. "You're not me."

"No, because _him_ I would actually like to talk to... Mr Locksley," Regina retorted, mocking his earlier delivery of her name by lowering her voice to deliver his.

Robin couldn't help but watch her lips as she addressed him, his mind already picturing scenarios where it was uttered with more pleasure in her voice than disdain.

"I'm hurt," he quipped, refusing to let her know the directions his thoughts were heading.

"Poor you," she pouted. "Go and lick your bruised ego in private."

"Would you not prefer to do that yourself?" he countered, enjoying the frustrated sigh as she looked heavenward.

"In your dreams."

Robin tried so hard to resist, but he was unable to let the opportunity pass him by; "In my dreams it's not my _ego_ you're licking."

The darkening of her eyes and the intake of breath had Robin wondering if perhaps all the hostility towards him was just an act, a front, perhaps the sultry innuendo she had been throwing at him wasn't just to rile him up; perhaps she was equally as plagued by inappropriate thoughts as he was.

Robin opened his mouth, intent on offering _'care to make my dreams come true?'_ but Edward Thatch - the bloody annoyance - interrupted him; "Can you two just pause on the verbal sex until I've got me money?"

Regina smirked and raised her chin in a silent challenge as she declared; "I was here first, go away."

"So mature, milady."

In an uncharacteristic show of childish humour - she had an _actual_ sense of humour, _who knew?_ \- the woman scrunched her features before turning back to the table with whatever gun she was purchasing in a silver case, signifying the end of the conversation.

Robin - for once - took note, and eventually left her in peace. Though if he was working out further ways to annoy her as he sat in the waiting area, who could blame him? She drew out the best in him.

With his fingers tapping the wicker sofa he was sat on, his eyes scanned the room, and when they fell on the mysterious blonde from earlier, he realised why she had seemed so familiar.

And from the sudden look of recognition on her face, she remembered him too.

"Hi. Robin, wasn't it?" she asked as she moved to sit next to him on the two-seater.

"Yup," he replied, before inquiring; "Tink, right?"

"My name's Faye, it's only Regina who calls me Tink," she clarified, and Robin felt an unusual pang of jealousy at Regina having something which he couldn't play tug-of-war with to irritate her.

"Oh, am I not allowed?"

The blonde narrowed her eyes in deliberation, before relenting, "I guess... But I want you to answer one question before I let you."

Robin paused, and let out an unsure, " _sure._ "

She spent a moment deciding on the correct words before simply blurting out; "What the hell is going on between you and Regina?"

Robin blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Because when I saw you two last week I swore you were together, but Regina said that you weren't and then avoided talking about you completely. So instead of asking little miss 'I keep to myself and you should do the same', I'm asking you. So…" the woman paused in her tirade to lean forwards and clasp her hands in her lap, repeating; "What's going on between you and Regina?"

"Nothing," Robin replied, slightly unnerved by the knowing eyebrow raise she sent his way. "Honestly, nothing's going on."

" _But_ …?" Regina's friend drew out, obviously the journalist in her refusing to stop until she had all the details.

"But... we both vie for the same targets from time to time," Robin admitted, before adding; "Regina's rather headstrong, but so am I, and so we clash."

"You seemed to be working together just fine when I saw you," she mumbled. "All hushed talking and holding hands and looking one second away from _devouring_ each other..."

Robin ignored the salacious grin she directed at him. "I was merely trying to find out her name."

"She didn't tell you?"

Shaking his head, Robin explained; "she said she'd tell me the next time we met."

"When was that?"

"The time before that," he answered, not giving anything away.

The reporter sat back against the cushions with a huff as she folded her arms. "You're as close-lipped about everything as Regina is..."

Robin gave her a cheesy grin as he nodded, before letting the conversation dwindle.

Though the silence didn't last for long; Robin chose to start it up again by asking, "Have you known her long?"

"About a year or so..." Tink answered. "How about you? She's only started talking about you the past month."

With a swell of victory, Robin noted that they only met about a month ago... He must have made quite an impression on her.

"What does she say about me?" He asked, unable to resist a possible boost to the ego when he added; "anything complimentary?"

"Only if you'd like a prize for 'most petulant asshole' or being a 'Class A dick'."

Robin grimaced, "ouch."

Tink chuckled. "And those are some of the nicer ones."

"Double ouch."

She reached over and gave him a comforting pat on the knee, "don't worry about it; she insults everyone she meets."

"I can see that..." Robin grumbled.

"Can I ask you something?" Tink inquired, and Robin felt a little wary at being practically interviewed by a journalist, but he nodded anyway. She obviously didn't mean any harm if Regina trusted her. "Were you the one who sent me the intel on Rosina?"

"I may have been," Robin answered non-committedly - though his sly smirk gave him away.

"Okay, I officially like you," Tink declared before rambling; "Do you realise how much praise I got for that? And it was an exclusive! Nobody else had that confession! I was a hero amongst the country's journalists."

"I saw your clever headline," Robin praised. "' _CEO of Sight Fashion is a Blind Witch_ '. It's catchy."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Tink was quiet for a moment before asking another question. "Why _did_ you help me out?"

"I..." Robin started, before pausing as reason escaped him.

"You..." she prompted, before filling in the blanks herself with a hopeful smile; "wanted to help me because I'm a friend of Regina's and you like her?"

"I think 'like' is taking it a bit far, wouldn't you say?"

The blonde shrugged. "She likes _you_."

Forgoing all sense of dignity, Robin sat straight, immediately perking up at the thought. "She does?"

"Of course," she declared as if it was obvious. "You're the only person who's stolen her targets and lived to tell the tale."

Robin deflated at the lack of concrete proof given. "So... Her version of 'I like you' is letting people live?"

"Yes."

"That's a bit psychopathic."

"I thought all assassins were at least a little bit psychopathic," she quipped. "Besides, Regina's not that bad. If you have her fighting in your corner, you're a very lucky person indeed."

"I always got the feeling she worked on her own."

"She does," Tink conceded. "I mean, she'll work with her best friend quite often, but she's kind of a lone wolf. I just think she needs someone to fight in _her_ corner for a change."

Robin saw the sly look she gave him, and _oh no;_ matchmaking was the last thing he needed right now.

"I'm sure Regina will find someone eventually. Someone she likes more than just not killing them."

"I think she already found them," Tink sang, her voice light and airy, with a hint of mischief.

"I think that you're mistaken," he sang back in the same rhythm, watching as the woman in question stepped through the netted curtain, spotted them, and then glared as she walked over.

"I hope you two aren't plotting anything against me," she said in warning as she narrowed her eyes.

There were mutual 'no's - which were ruled null and void by Tink's cheesy grin.

Regina rolled her eyes and started walking away, leaving it up to Tink to chase after her. Though the young blonde had different ideas; she leaned over to Robin and whispered in his ear; "say something nice."

When Robin didn't make any move to do anything, she pinched his thigh so hard he couldn't help but stand up and let out a yelp.

Regina turned back around, the sudden noise having garnered her attention. She raised an eyebrow at him, an unspoken inquiry to encourage him to speak.

Robin glared at Tink for having put him on the spot, but she glared back just as hard, subtly mouthing ' _say something nice'_ with an extra narrow of her eyes for good measure.

Turning back to Regina, Robin let his eyes scan quickly over her.

She looked nice - stunning, actually - but complimenting outfits seemed more like a girlfriend's kind of thing. He could compliment her looks, though he'd already made it clear that he found her attractive, and she may take that as another chat-up line with the intent to rile her up. He didn't know her well enough to compliment her personality, and to be brutally honest, the times when he wasn't imagining pinning her against the wall he found her to be a bit of a bitch, and he wasn't going to lie to her.

His eyes glanced over the metal case in her hand, housing the gun that she had just purchased for goodness knows what. But he could work with that. Nothing too emotional or touchy-feely or borderline inappropriate...

"I hope your op goes well," he settled on, putting as much sincerity into his tone as he could manage.

Regina looked rather confused, narrowing her eyes and waiting for the punchline, but when it never came she relaxed and quietly thanked him. Adding a gentle, "you too, I guess."

Robin's blue eyes met Regina's brown ones, and to his surprise she seemed a little less guarded, actually showing some humanity behind the tough-girl façade she was wearing.

Though Edward - the bastard - interrupted this moment too, calling his name from the back and severing the connection he was trying to build.

"We should go," Regina stated, looking towards Tink and nodding at the door, walking away before Robin could even say goodbye.

It was only when they were halfway out the building that Regina's gaze met his again, and Robin held it for as long as he could, even offering a small smile - to which she responded by quirking the corner of her mouth.

Tink looked between the two, unable to hold in her hushed - and yet excited; "You like him."

Regina's gaze snapped forward.

"We've been through this, Tink," she responded with a weary sigh - and oh how he would have liked to be a fly on the wall for _that_ conversation - before mumbling something that sounded like; "he smells like forest."

Robin frowned, unsure if he heard right, before lifting his arm and inclining his head, sniffing to try and work out if she was referring to his deodorant or if it was an insult aimed at his natural odour. Though he cringed when he heard his name called again; of all the dignified positions to meet one's weapons dealer in, sniffing one's armpits was not one of them.

…

Robin mumbled an apology as he followed Edward Thatch into the back room, though if it was for barging in early, being rather unsanitary or just in general, he wasn't quite sure.

"Your girl's a bit of a spitfire," the older man stated, chuckling as he walked Robin to the business end of the establishment.

"Tell me about it," he scoffed, before catching up with the first half of Edward Thatch's sentence and correcting; "but she's not my girl."

Robin sidestepped to accommodate the sudden elbow he received to his ribs, along with a teasing; "Not _yet_ anyway, eh mate?"

With a roll of his eyes, Robin wisely changed the topic into something not relating to his little miss hot assassin - lord knew she was becoming difficult territory lately. "So... I would have spoken in more detail over the phone, but confidentiality is very important to my employer."

"Ah, I see. Well, me lips are sealed."

"I appreciate that."

"So..." the dealer started, clasping his hands together in front of him. "What can I do for you?"

"I understand you're in possession of a DSR-1 rifle," Robin started.

"I _was,_ " the man replied, looking somewhat apologetic. "I'm afraid someone else also needed that weapon today."

Robin's hands contracted into fists, his jaw clenching and teeth grinding. This was bad. This was very, very bad. The DSR-1 was the best sniper rifle for the job, precise and technologically advanced - which was why his boss had specified that _this_ was the one to be used. The thought of going back to his boss and explaining that someone else had gotten there first filled Robin with a sense of dread. He could see himself sitting at a desk doing paperwork for the next three months.

No, there had to be _something_ he could do. Perhaps he could speak with the buyer and make an offer to borrow it for a few days, hopefully they'd be amenable to helping a poor guy out.

"Who bought it?" He asked, and he should have known the answer. It should have been _completely_ obvious from the very start...

"Miss Regina Mills."

Robin groaned. _For fuck's sake..._

...

Robin raced out of the building, following the route he'd assume she'd take, and - by some strike of luck - he caught her just as she was opening her driver door.

"Woah, hey, Regina, wait up..." he shouted, interrupting the conversation the two women were having over the roof of her Mercedes.

"Robin?" She turned to him, looking rather bemused. "What?"

Robin stopped, really unsure how to go about winning Regina over enough for her to loan him her gun. He decided to aim for flattery, turning on the charm and smiling as he started; "have I told you that you look-"

"Cut the crap, Robin," she interrupted, obviously not buying into his sudden niceness. "What do you want?"

"I want you..." he started, pausing for dramatic effect and trying not to laugh at Tink's excited _'I knew it!'_ before continuing; _"_ to lend me that gun."

Tink deflated, resting her arms on the top of the car and resting her head on them, muttering something that sounded suspiciously similar to; "fuck you both."

Regina ignored her, raising her brow and inquiring; "The gun that I just bought?"

"Yeah."

"No chance."

Robin folded his arms, harshening his tone a little as he declared; "I need it for an op."

"I wasn't aware there was another buyer after this one," Regina replied, actually sounding less sassy than he thought she would.

"Well, my boss told me to keep it under wraps."

"Well, tell him that his secrecy just cost him a weapon," she countered.

Robin took a step forward, resting his hand on the sleek black of the car's roof. " _You_ tell him."

"I'd rather not," she responded, switching her glare between his hand on her paintwork and his pleading face. "He's _your_ boss, _you_ deal with him."

"If you knew him, you'd know that's not an option."

"Aren't I glad that I work for myself then?" she sniped.

"Well, I don't. So if you could just help me out this once?"

"Now, why would I want to do that?"

"Remember when you said you'd let me have George King and then killed him anyway?" Robin sassed, seeing if the guilt card could work.

It didn't; she gave as good as she got. "Remember that time you almost strangled me?"

"Remember all the times you've stolen my targets and put me on desk duty?"

"Remember every single moment that you've been a pain in my ass?"

"Wait..." Robin paused their battle of wills, exclaiming; " _Me_ a pain in _your_ ass?"

With that, Tink opened the passenger car door and stepped on the ledge at the bottom, gaining height on both of them before shouting over the roof; "will you two stop acting like kindergarten kids and just work something out?"

Both Robin and Regina quietened, looking between the blonde and each other, reluctantly easing the tension they had built between them during one of their many quarrels.

"I only need to borrow it for a few days," Robin started, "after that, it's all yours."

"What if I need it during those three days?"

"Then I will give it back to you," he offered. "You get priority."

"And you'll replace the ammo?"

"With extra."

Regina looked wary, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes as she asked; "And if I agree to this are you likely to ask for it again?"

"Possibly," Robin admitted, before taking a look at the scowl on her face and hoping to ease it away with a joking, "would you like to draw up a shared custody agreement?"

The scowl disappeared, but her glare increased ten-fold. "What do I get in return for this?"

Robin stepped closer, feeling rather irritated at the hunk of metal called a car door that was between them. He lowered his voice, tilting his head as he drawled; "what do you want?"

"I want you..." Regina started, leaning even closer into Robin's space and ignoring the 'thump' from when Tink's feet accidentally slipped back to the ground, then continuing; "to stay out of my way."

"How about the next target?"

"The next three," she countered.

"Two."

"Two, and you owe me a favour - no questions asked."

Robin nodded. "Deal."

For a few seconds after, they merely held each other's gaze with a hint of a smile on their lips. That was until Tink decided to tease; "There... That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

...

The best thing about knowing one's target and their schedule beforehand, was being able to scope out the possible vantage points and thoroughly plan before any activity actually took place.

Skylar Azul's offices were rather shady, both in the lack-of-light respect, and in the something-fishy-is-going-down-here respect. The woman had the sense to keep her desk positioned out of the way of the window, making a clear shot from the opposite building more difficult than it had to be. The fine net curtains she'd close the moment she arrived also blocked out enough view that an extra scope might be needed, though he could buy that and then give it to Regina - hopefully that may negate the favour she asked of him, or at least allow him a little say in the matter.

Though then he heard a key in the lock on the door, and any thoughts about possible favours he owed vanished with a sudden ' _oh shit'._

Ducking for cover behind the mahogany desk, Robin drew out the sig from the small of his back and thumbed the safety off. However, as he heard the tell-tale sign of a magazine being loaded, Robin realised a wooden desk would likely hold up for all of three seconds.

So... His plan A was to shoot first, then hide behind the filing cabinet on the wall to his left if someone else came in. Though as he fired the first shot, and caught sight of three more men behind him aiming at the desk, he realised that any steps into the open would result in his body having a few extra holes in it than what he was born with.

He knew his boss would be the death of him one day. _Damn him_. If there was such a thing as the afterlife he would haunt his ass for all of eternity.

Robin waited until he heard movement before shooting again, working out the guard's position and firing over the top of the desk before the guy even knew what hit him. The other two went quiet after that, but Robin was awaiting the hail of bullets through the desk - thankful that these people seemed too stupid to work out that the furniture would not save him from rapid fire.

Though he had to hand it to them; they were quiet as hell! He didn't even know one of the guards had reached the desk until there was a shadow looming over him. Resisting the urge to just fire in an arc and waste bullets fought against all of Robin's survival instincts, but knew that if he did that, he'd have none left for the other guard, and that would be it. Game over.

In the few milliseconds that followed, Robin tried to work out his exact position and shoot him through the table, but just as he heard the next footstep, there was a faint whizz of a bullet flying through the window, and the man who was just about to become his executioner flew against the wall and hit it with a thud.

Unable to resist his curiosity, Robin shuffled to the other side of the desk and peeked around it, trying to work out what the fuck had just happened. Aside from the dead guard at the door, and the one who had managed a few steps further, there was another guard slumped against the wall to his left, his eyes glassy and unfocussed, and a red smear following him as he slid down to the ground.

It didn't take a genius to realise he'd been taken out by a sniper's shot. But Robin frowned as he tried to work out who would do such a thing, and why?

In his distraction, Robin missed the last guard spot his position, immediately raising his gun...

And then promptly joining his comrade on the floor with a hole in his chest.

Robin paused for a few seconds, awaiting sign of any more guards - or sniper shots - before deciding to move from him position behind the office desk. Keeping low, Robin shifted towards the first guy, looked at the bullet that went through him and hit the wall. He couldn't be sure, but he was damn well convinced that this was .338 Lapua. The same kind of ammo that he had just borrowed from Regina that day. That couldn't be a coincidence. Surely. But would that mean..?

Against his instinct for survival, Robin moved closer to the window, crouching beneath the sill before slowly peeking out the corner. His eyes immediately went to high ground, searching all the rooftops for any movement that shouted 'sniper', finding nothing until he reached a row of offices in the building opposite him. He only caught a glimpse of dark hair and a shadow of a woman's silhouette before she disappeared, but somehow he knew who it was without question.

Regina.

He didn't get chance to ponder on what the hell she was doing before he realised if he stood there much longer then he was going to miss her.

He thought about double checking that the guys who shot at him were dead - as if the bullets to the chest and gaping exit wounds weren't enough - but then realised that would be a waste of time and he couldn't let Regina get away from him again.

The queue waiting for the elevator would have taken two trips to clear, and so he raced down the stairs. All seven flights. Fortunately, down was a lot easier than up, and he was athletic enough that he barely broke a sweat by the time he had reached the bottom.

Upon exiting the building he thought like the assassin he was and followed the route that made the most sense - out of the way, easy exit route that didn't loop back past the building... - and lo and behold, her car was just down the street from where his was.

As he caught up to her, shouting her name and jogging over to meet her, he got a strong sense of repeating their meeting from earlier, hoping this one went down a little bit better. It should do. She did just save his life, after all.

Regina looked rather surprised at his being in front of her, shifting from one foot to the other and placing her hands in the pockets of her leather trousers, offering an unsure; "hi."

Robin smiled, intending on thanking her, complimenting her aim and offering his services in response - and _oh_ how he would like to 'service her' right now - but then his gaze dropped to the rear window and spotted the metal case that she had stored behind her driver seat. The same metal case they had been fighting over merely a couple of hours earlier.

His glare turned accusatory as he faced to her. "You stole my gun."

"No," she started, raising a finger and pausing whilst she obviously fought back a smug smirk. "I stole _my_ gun."

"We had a deal."

"I don't make deals."

Robin scoffed. "Well, I clearly remember you making one."

"It was a lapse in judgement," she explained, looking slightly distant when she added; "won't happen again."

Robin paused, trying to reign in his frustration and failing when he stated, "You're kind of a bitch, you know that?"

She smiled - a smug thing he wanted to wipe off - and nodded her head.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Thanks for nothing."

Her expression turned sour. "Hey! If I hadn't been there in that building you'd be dead."

"You expecting a 'thank you'?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," he spat.

"You're welcome," she replied with equal hostility. "Now excuse me."

"Wait!" Robin called out, putting a hand against the car door when she tried to open it. "Why _did_ you save me?"

She leaned towards him, so much so that he wondered if there would actually be some sentiment behind her next statement. But alas, that was just a pipe dream; "I'm just not done ruining your life yet."

Rolling his eyes, Robin quipped; "So charming."

"I'm many things," she started, before continuing; "' _charming_ ' is not one of them."

"I noticed," he deadpanned.

Clearly having had enough, Regina put a hand to his chest and ordered; "Move."

Wanting to make it difficult for her, Robin shrugged and placed his hands on his hips. "What if I don't want to?"

"Well I'm sure you'd love to stand there and stare at my pretty face all day," she quipped. "But the fact is; I saved your life. Now do as I say."

"I'd prefer it if you'd left me to die," he mumbled.

"That can certainly be arranged for next time."

Robin glared, delivering an unenthusiastic; "I can't wait."

"Neither can I," she replied with mock cheerfulness, before using the hand still resting on his chest to push him back a few steps so she could open her car door. "Goodbye."

Hell no. If he went back without the gun he had been ordered to get, his boss would have him on desk duty for the next two weeks - at _least_ \- and there would be some seriously menial tasks he'd be assigned. No way. Nope. Never.

He was leaving here with that gun.

Robin stepped forward and put an arm out, blocking her way into her car. "Regina…"

She turned around, clearly irritated, and snapped; "What?"

The intent to force her to let him have the gun faded, his plans to rile her up until she only agreed to make him go away unravelled and disintegrated before him. Behind her eyes she looked tired, weary, and Robin found himself unwilling to upset her over something as trivial as a gun when he had a feeling their reluctantly building partnership could become something much more important in the future.

So he paused, changed his tactics and tried to decide if his next move would be a wise one. It probably wouldn't. But he was going to do it anyway.

He smoothed his tone, softened his eyes, and delivered a genuine, heartfelt, "Thank you, for saving my life."

She was obviously taken aback at the sudden change, and as she regarded Robin with her cynical glare, he tried his best to look as neutral as he could. It took a moment for her irritation to fade, but then Robin watched as her whole demeanour softened slightly too, and she answered with a quiet; "Don't mention it."

He caught a smile gracing her lips, soft and genuine, and it spread onto his own face as she turned to get in her car.

That was certainly a sight he'd like to see again, and if he was the one who caused the elusive, beautiful curve of her lips, then that would be even better.

As he watched her drive away, he caught sight of Tink in the passenger seat, leaning to give him a thumbs up through the rear window, a clear 'you did good' in regards to Regina's heartfelt smile.

And _yeah_ , Robin mused as he realised he had just given up two weeks of field work to keep Regina happy, _he did very good._


	5. Chapter 5

***shyly slips in an update* I'm just gonna leave this here (and apologise for the** _ **long**_ **delay).  
Love you guys.  
Mwah.**

...

Eight guns. In a room barely fifteen metres squared, there were eight guns raised and ready to fire.

Robin's gaze switched from one side of the room to the other, not entirely sure what he had just walked into - and half tempted to walk back out again. But should he do that he knew that it'd turn into a bloodbath, and he'd rather not see the death of anyone standing in front of him.

"Put the guns down."

Most eyes fell to him, mainly holding a look of confusion as they tried to work out which party he was talking to.

"Guns down, guys, now."

"What? _Us?"_ Will Scarlet spoke up from the other end of the room. "She started it!"

Robin sighed, looking towards Regina and the two guns she had pointed at his teammates. "Hers will follow."

His men sent bemused glares towards him, a few speaking up about their confused outrage at Robin's suggestion.

"If we put ours down she'll just shoot us."

"We'll be dead within seconds."

"Are you trying to kill us all, Robin?"

Rolling his eyes, Robin realised his men weren't going to lower their weapons whilst Regina was raising hers and Regina wasn't going to lower hers whilst his men were raising theirs, so he took out his gun and pointed it at Regina.

Now there were _nine_ weapons.

"If she shoots you, I'll shoot her," Robin announced, trying not to smirk at the deadly glare she threw him out of the corner of her eye. "Now, lower your guns, and she'll lower hers."

It took a few seconds, but eventually his teammates lowered their guns - none of them being able to decide if they should be glaring at their leader or the woman in front of them.

Robin watched Regina watching everyone, spending a moment deliberating as she side-eyed the barrel aimed at her head.

When Robin gave her a pointed glare to remind her of their arrangement, she rolled her eyes and sighed, holstering her weapons with overly-deliberate movements and a _'see? Are you happy now?'_ glare _._ When he didn't immediately lower his gun, Regina brought her hand up to move its aim away from her.

Grinning, Robin stored his gun back at his waist, taking a moment to trail his eyes over the woman in front of him…

He had missed her.

It had only been three weeks since he last saw her, but he still found himself thinking of her from time to time, wondering what trouble she was causing, who was on the wrong end of her gun barrel…

"Are you done staring?"

Robin blinked, his eyes diverting to her lips as she spoke and then rising to see her eyes glaring at him.

"Wasn't staring," Robin started, before turning on the charm and adding; "was admiring."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her response to be - some flirty insult or witty banter probably - but she merely rolled her eyes and ignored him, sounding bored and tired as she asked; "what are you doing here?"

If she wasn't being so catty then he'd probably have just told her why he was there straight away - the secret list of government officials willing to fund mercenary agencies to carry out a few favours - but as it were, he wanted to make life a little difficult for her. So he countered with; "what are _you_ doing here?"

She wasn't playing along. She just stood there, her gaze boring into him until he decided it just wasn't worth it and gave in. "We're here for the Diamond List."

Regina scoffed, taking a second before she became serious again and gave a deadpanned, "no."

"Regina…"

"I've been searching for this list for months, and I'm not going to let a self-centred jackass take it from me," she sniped, before declaring; "if you want it you're going to have to shoot me."

"Wait, is this the woman who keeps stealing your targets?" John Little asked from across the room. "The one who you said is - and I quote - 'not that bad'?"

Robin watched as Regina frowned, seeming to be a little taken aback. "That's actually rather... Complimentary."

"Yes, well, I thought I'd try to stop being a 'class A dick'," Robin gibed, watching Regina's gaze harden again.

"How's that working out for you?"

"Apparently better than your efforts to be civil."

"I don't need to be civil," she said after she gave him another roll of her eyes. "I just need this damn list."

"You're not getting it."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not." Robin saw her open her mouth to protest, and added; "And before you argue back, remember there are seven of us, and one of you."

"I have taken out nine ex-armed forces with nothing but a paperweight and a tablecloth. You guys have nothing on me."

Robin couldn't help but feel a bit impressed at her claim; ex-armed forces made dangerous agents, and a woman so lithe as Regina taking out that many with nothing but household items was no mean feat. He had half a mind to praise her if she wasn't being so rude to him.

His men seemed to agree on that stance, John taking it upon himself to tell her; "You're a bitch, you know that?"

"At least I have some restraint at a buffet," she countered back. "How do you even fight with all of that extra weight?"

"Guys, that's enough," Robin snapped, having had enough of the hostility between them. Stubborn arseholes, the lot of them. "We came for this file and we're leaving with it."

Regina shook her head. "No. You're _not_."

"Regina, our employer needs that list," Robin ground out, before realising that going head to head with this woman to get something he wanted was only going to lead to a fight. And if anyone was going to try and avoid conflict it had to be him; he doubted Regina's ego would allow the slight vulnerability of backing down.

So, taking a breath, he decided to be appeal to her elusive better-nature by confessing; "Our agency's taking a battering lately, we need to replenish stocks."

"Boo hoo," she deadpanned. "Your agency is not my problem."

Robin's goodwill faded as he felt frustration bubble through him. Why did she even want this list anyway? "I thought this wasn't about money for you."

"It's not."

"Well then bloody act like it!"

"You guys work at an agency, you're protected. Me? I work alone and I take care of myself," she snapped, shutting Robin up since the thought of her wanting this list for protection hadn't even occurred to him. "I've made many enemies in my lifetime and I know for a fact that some of them are after this list. If any of them get a hold of it, they'd have all the funding and resources they'd need to kill me within a week."

"Ah..."

Robin paused, the thought of allowing Regina's enemies the resources needed to kill her making his chest feel uncomfortable. He couldn't be responsible for that.

"Yeah; ' _ah_ '," she mocked. "So the only way you're getting that list is if you kill me first."

"Fine by me." Tuck lifted his weapon, Regina lifted one of hers, the others started raising theirs and pretty soon they were in the same stand-off as when Robin had first stumbled across them.

"Woah, hey, guys, guns down."

They didn't appear to hear him, all glaring and daring each other to make the first move.

Robin made it.

He took three steps forward and placed himself in front of Regina, taking her out of the firing line and giving his men the clear message that if they wanted to shoot Regina they'd have to shoot him first.

Addressing his team, Robin urged them; "put your guns down."

"I don't have time for this," Regina sighed from behind him, and when he angled his head over his shoulder to see what she was doing, he noted her facing the entirely opposite direction as she looked at the device on the table she was leaning against.

With a glare, Robin outstretched his hands and gestured for the men in front of him to put their weapons away. They did so, but with obvious reluctance written all over their faces.

Robin took a second to pause before he stood directly behind Regina, leaning over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her eyeing floorplans and CCTV feeds on her tablet. Though then he became distracted by the scent of her shampoo or perfume or something _her_ , something floral yet incredibly sensual that had him fighting not to lean even closer into her. But then he realised that now was not the time to get hypnotised by her scent, and he forced himself to focus and ask; "what are you doing?"

"Ignoring you," she quipped. "Leave me alone."

Robin gritted his teeth, starting to feel very frustrated at the way he was doing his best to help Regina, and all she was doing in return was throwing it back in his face. "Perhaps if you weren't so rude you'd have friends to watch your back."

"I don't need friends."

"Well, Tink said you worked with your 'best friend' from time to time when I last saw her. Was she mistaken?" Robin divulged, not wanting to put the girl in trouble, but wanting to encourage Regina to actually _talk_ to him.

"Well, Tink needs to learn to keep her mouth shut," she growled in response. "My life is none of your business. Stay out of it."

He didn't quite know what had happened, but Robin had the feeling that he was practically back to square one with this woman. Or even further back than that; at least when he first met her she would actually crack a smile or try to distract him with something flirty. Now she was just... Hostile.

With a sigh, Robin realised that if Regina really didn't want any help, then it was useless to try and encourage her to accept it. Though he decided to try one last time before he considered it a lost cause and started to work out other ways to get his hands on the Diamond List. He just hoped his final, proverbial olive branch panned out in his favour. He'd hate to betray her – and consequently take residence on her bad side.

"Do you need any help?"

Robin held his breath, waiting for her to either shoot him down or accept his offer - though it occurred to him that he'd never been so eager for someone to work with him before, and he should really work on playing it cool lest she figure that out use it to her advantage.

She did neither of his predictions - he should have expected as much - and merely turned to him with a frown on her face as she asked; "What?"

"In collecting the file?" Robin clarified, trying to look sincere.

"So you can just steal it from me? I don't think so."

"No stealing. I promise."

"So let me get this straight..." Regina started, turning to face him and folding her arms. "You've gone from ' _I'll shoot you to get that file_ ' to ' _can I help you destroy it?_ ' in a matter of minutes? What the hell happened?"

"Have you taken anything, mate?" Will Scarlett asked, a few men nodding in agreement before Alan Dale offered his suggestion of their leader having ' _fallen down some stairs?'._

"Well, at least we can agree on _something,_ " Regina mused, chancing a glance at the men once poised to shoot her.

"If we're not going to get the file, the least we can do is make sure _nobody_ gets it, right?"

John Little folded his arms. "And when boss-man wants to know what happened to it?"

"When we got here it was already destroyed," Robin provided, receiving a round of incredulous looks from all of his teammates.

"You want us to lie to him?" Brian Tuck asked, and Robin was half tempted to laugh at the look of shock on everyone's faces.

"Bloody hell, mate," Will scoffed. "That's a sure-fire bullet in the noggin'."

"Only if we get caught," Robin countered, before pointing out; "he hasn't worked out that Regina's taken at least six of my targets, $50k of his funding and his specialist rifle yet."

He saw Regina gaze at him from the corner of her eyes, her expression unreadable - but not hostile. He would have commented on it if John hadn't gibed; "Only because you're a sucker for a pretty face."

Robin's eyes met Regina's. Yes, she had a pretty face - a gorgeous face, even - but it wasn't that; the thought of Gold getting his hands on her just seemed to make him uncomfortable inside. He wouldn't be responsible for that. She may be a pain in the ass, but she was _his_ pain in the ass - and he wanted her to remain breathing.

"I doubt his oversized ego could confess to losing to a woman," Regina quipped, but the way her mouth twitched in an effort to hide a smirk had him repressing a smile of his own. That was more like the Regina he knew; a mixture of sass and wit and insults she softened with a sultry look.

When she turned back to her work, the smile grew on his face anyway.

His gaze travelled over her for a few moments, admiring the slight curl of her hair, the leather jacket, silk blouse, skin-tight jeans, stiletto boots... How did she always look so damn sexy? It should be a crime.

Forcing himself to turn away before he got too wrapped up in his thoughts, Robin turned back to find all of his men staring at him. The smile on Robin's lips dropped as he waited for them to say something, and when they didn't he raised his brows to prompt them.

And promptly regretted it.

None of them said anything, but the rude, suggestive gestures they all started throwing his way had Robin's eyes rolling so hard that it hurt.

He was about to tell them where they could stick it, but then an alert was sounding behind him and his attention was drawn back to Regina.

"What is it?" He asked, not having the time or viewpoint to work out what the flashing red words said, but whatever it was had her ignoring him, cursing under her breath as she started packing her things.

"Need any help?" Robin offered, but she was already tucking away her tablet and guns, preparing to leave.

"Nope." Regina took a few steps towards the exit, before she turned back to him and glared to deliver a warning; "And if you fuck this up, I'll fuck _you_ up, got it?"

"Got it." Robin bit his tongue, fighting to not make a lewd response because if only she knew all the ways he wanted her to fuck him up.

Though a knowing smirk appeared on her face, and she stated; "it's hurting you not to make an inappropriate comment, isn't it?"

"It's _killing_ me," he admitted, delighted to hear her chuckle before he shooed her off; "Just leave."

She left the room with a grin on her face, and Robin counted that as a victory. He'd do a little fist-pump if it weren't for the six men currently staring at him.

"What?"

They all remained silent, but there were half a dozen patronising grins aimed at him. Robin averted his gaze with a roll of his eyes. _Bastards._

It was then that he noted a black handbag, tucked out of the way against the wall, and despite the usual suspicion that came with an unoccupied bag, Robin couldn't help the flicker of recognition. He had seen this before, somewhere.

 _Somewhere_...

Somewhere like in the back of Regina's car after she had stolen his DSR-1 rifle - that she had technically bought, but details, details...

"Want me to shoot it?" Brian Tuck asked with a chuckle, "see if it goes boom?"

"Do so at your own risk," Robin quipped. "That's Regina's."

Robin almost laughed at the way all the men simultaneously took a step back - as if a leather bag was going to attack them.

She could need that, Robin thought. There could be weapons and tech in there.

He knew she had her gun and tablet with her, but that was not a huge arsenal for taking a file from a secure vault in a secure building. Though, he also reminded himself of her 'paperweight and a tablecloth' claim.

He could wait in the office lobby with it for when she was finished. He doubted she even needed a gun as her weapon; _she_ was her weapon.

If there was anything he had learned about Regina, it was that she could take care of herself.

..*..

Of all the annoyances and grievances in the world, a full bladder was definitely up there behind toothache; the constant pressure, the occasional sharp pain, and the complete lack of a comfortable position to be in. Obviously, a full bladder was avoidable if one would just go to the restroom, but John Little was putting off hitting the head for a good reason; any moment now someone was going to ask Robin if he was screwing this 'Regina'. And he couldn't miss that.

They'd mentioned her briefly, skirting around the exact nature of their relationship and watching Robin trying to disguise the fact that he was practically a lovesick puppy already. They could see the allure; a gorgeous woman who understood the assassin lifestyle and could obviously hold her own. But from what they had seen she wasn't exactly the nicest of people, and John was still waiting for the opportune moment to tell Robin she was no good. He deserved better.

John's fingers tapped on the chair he would be seated in until Regina returned, trying not to concentrate on the building pressure he was going to have to relieve any moment.

In the end it became too much and he left anyway, hoping to god that nothing juicy was said whilst he wasn't present. It wasn't that he was a gossip, per se; he just needed to know what was going on - purely out of concern for his friends, of course. His teammates didn't seem to appreciate his investment in their wellbeing; they didn't even hear his announcement that he was ' _just gonna hit the head_ ' - honestly, he could have been going _anywhere -_ and he was half tempted to give them the middle finger as he walked away.

To say that the restrooms were signposted, it was quite difficult to get to them; a left turn here, a right turn there, a short walk down a hallway that - with a full bladder - felt akin to climbing Mount Everest.

But eventually he got there, and he wasn't even ashamed of the relieved sigh he let out the moment he stood in front of the urinal. The men standing along the far wall giving him odd looks could go and take a hike for all he cared. He felt like flying with relief.

It was strange how something so simple as having a piss could put a smile on someone's face, but here John was; making his way back to the office lobby with a content grin from ear to ear. If it wouldn't have drawn attention to himself he probably would have been tempted to skip to his teammates.

As it was, he walked like he worked there, blending into the staff around him and even offering an acknowledging nod now and again. See? Despite what his friends said he could _definitely_ pass as a normal human being.

The next corridor he went down he was surprised to see Regina again; he had presumed she'd still be in the process of taking the Diamond List - even though it wasn't _hers_ to take, he thought with a grumble. Though she was currently in a discussion with a security guard, and despite the sensible thing to do of just walking away and finding another route back, he couldn't help but take a few steps closer to work out what was going on.

The guard had noticed one of Regina's guns. He wasn't entirely sure how - even John couldn't spot them - but it would be incredibly difficult to explain away the possession of a firearm in a building with checkpoints at every entrance.

Though she was certainly having a good go.

He should just walk away. He should find another way back to his friends and pretend that he had never even seen her - or say that he had caught her leaving, so he and his friends could exit and avoid questioning in case they looked into Regina's movements. But he could hear the rising tensions in their voices as the situation slowly escalated, and despite how much of a pain in the ass the woman was, there was nothing worse than having to deal with someone demanding attention when one was on an operation.

Now there was a complication in what he should do; John doubted that this woman was worth the trouble he could get into, but on the other hand, Robin had obviously taken a shine to her, and leaving Regina in a spot of bother without even trying to help would likely win him Robin's Grudge Number 1 position - which, considering his line of work, would be quite the feat.

He looked towards his new, intended route back to the lobby, then back towards Regina, his head tilting this way and that before he let out a frustrated growl and resigned himself to risking his anonymity because of a woman he didn't even like.

Heading back down the corridor towards the restrooms, John stopped in front of a door he had seen marked with an engraved metal plaque depicting 'Supplies Closet', trying the handle and being pleasantly surprised when he didn't even need to pick the lock.

He hung around the entrance for a few moments as he made a plan, pretending to check his phone whenever someone walked past until he had a general exfiltration strategy.

It wasn't too long before a security guard was making his way past him - presumably to help the guard currently toe-to-toe with Regina - and John thanked the heavens that this man was a similar height and build to him. Possibly even on the larger side.

He nodded at the bald man as he walked past, even having the guile to offer a smile as he took inventory of the guy's weapons on his utility belt.

Stealth attack was obviously the best option here.

John waited until the man was a few paces past him, and then with a well-aimed strike to the jugular, he rendered the guard momentarily unconscious - just long enough to drag him into the supplies closet without alerting any other passer-by. Once there, he set to work ensuring the man would be unconscious for a while longer, relieving the guard from his uniform and donning it himself.

He hit his head twice on a metal shelf, knocked over five cartons of cleaning solution, almost stepped in a bucket, and had a fight with a mop, but in a few short minutes, John was almost the typical picture of a company security guard.

As he tied his hair back and placed the black cap on his head, he sighed and muttered; "the things I do for Robin."

Luckily, by the time he had strolled back down the hallway, Regina and the other security guard were still in a heated discussion - though it looked as if it would ignite any second.

"Excuse me," he started, walking over to them. "Is there a problem here?"

It was always the first moments of infiltration which were the most important; would anyone notice something was amiss? Would they work out they weren't who they said they were? Would they draw attention to their concerns?

Fortunately, this security guard seemed so wound up by Regina that he barely glanced at John before stating; "this woman is carrying a sidearm within the building, and that cannot be allowed except for security staff."

"Regina, right?" John asked, hoping that she could see he had a plan, and just rolled with it.

She seemed to be playing along, affirming that was her name with a nod and a muttered ' _uh-huh'._

The guard looked between them both. "You two know each other?"

"Regina's one of the new hires; covert security surveillance."

"I wasn't aware we had extra security..."

" _Covert_ security. That's the whole point; it's to make sure that _everyone_ is behaving appropriately, even the guards," John explained, grateful to see the man's doubt start to fade. He took a punt and added a conspiratorial; "you know what this company's like."

"Bunch of bloody paranoids, the lot of 'em," he quipped, and both John and Regina let out subtle, relieved sighs. "As long as we get paid though, eh?"

"Indeed," John agreed with a hearty chuckle, surprised to even see a smile on Regina's face - she did have a pretty smile, he could admit that much - but then again; she was just playing the part.

"Anyways, I'll let you get on with your business," the guard announced, deliberately tapping his nose in a useless gesture of secrecy before he left to continue his patrol.

John had already started to walk away by the time Regina turned back to him, and no sooner had he taken a few steps than he heard a second pair of feet catch up to him.

"What was that about?" she asked, and John found pleasure in riling her with the lack of an answer.

He stood outside the supplies closet containing the blacked-out guard and his clothes, and merely told her; "keep watch for a minute, will ya?"

He was too busy starting to unfasten the buttons on his shirt to see Regina's look of outrage, but he knew she'd be there when he got back out; she wanted answers, and it would not be wise to have this conversation through a door.

Sure enough, when he emerged - with remarkably fewer incidents this time - she was still standing there, leaning against the wall and in the process of sending a text - of which he neither had the view nor interest to try and sneak a peek.

When she noticed him she repeated her previous question; "what was that about?"

He started walking away again - just to test her, and call them even on the annoyance front - but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back with remarkable strength considering her size and his weight.

She tried a different angle, asking; "What are you even still doing here?"

"You left your bag upstairs, we figured we'd give it back to you in the lobby..."

"Oh... Well, I guess you saved my feet from climbing a flight of stairs."

"You're welcome..." he deadpanned, with a roll of his eyes.

Regina stayed quiet for a moment before inclining her head towards where she and the security guard had been, inquiring; "Why'd you do that?"

"A friend of Robin's is a friend of mine."

"I'm not..." she started, before frowning and trailing off. She paused a moment before looking away and trying to appear indifferent as she muttered, "It's appreciated."

"You're welcome," he said, though with a touch more sincerity than previously.

It was then that he took a moment to observe her, and she didn't seem as harsh anymore; less like a caged animal ready to tear everyone apart and more like an actual human being.

"You seem different..."

"Different?"

"Not such a bitch anymore."

"Thanks," she deadpanned.

"What changed?" John asked. She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant and avoiding his inquisitive gaze. He put the pieces together anyway; it was the only thing that made sense. "I saved you."

"I'm used to getting myself out of tight situations, I don't need 'saving'-"

John rolled his eyes as he interrupted her; "I won't bother next time then."

"If you would have let me finish..." She raised a brow and gave him a pointed look. "I would have continued to say; I don't need saving _but_ it was nice that someone had my back."

He raised his own brow, expecting more, and continuing to wait until she added a reluctant; "thank you."

John beamed. An actual 'thank you' from this woman was obviously not commonplace, and he felt the need to add it to his resume.

They were silent for a few seconds, long enough for slight awkwardness to creep in, before John broke it.

"He likes you, you know?" The man asked, waiting for Regina to look at him before he elaborated. "Robin: I've seen the way he looks at you."

It was almost comical to watch Regina struggling for something to say, opening her mouth and then closing it again until she uttered an unsure, non-committal, "okay".

"I'm just saying. You should probably trust him a little more."

John watched as she visibly tensed, and the easy atmosphere was gone. "I don't easily trust people."

"In this business, trust is in short supply. You'd do well to have friends on your side, and I personally vouch for everyone on my team."

"I work on my own, and I have a couple of contacts in case I need back-up," Regina stated. "It's served me well so far."

"Well, perhaps if you started trusting people, you'd have more of a team at your back."

"I've trusted people before and been betrayed, got burned," she confessed, obviously hoping he'd drop the topic. "And trust builds a connection. In my life there's nothing more dangerous than a loved one."

"Robin's not like that; he's an honourable man," John assured her. "And we're his friends; our loyalty is to him first, our boss second. You don't have to worry about us betraying you like that."

Regina nodded, but John could still see that she wasn't to be swayed. It was likely that she had spent years avoiding getting close to people, it wasn't a surprise to note a few words from a stranger couldn't change her mind. Though he still felt the need to propose an offer of protection: "We're like a family unit, you know? Always watching each other's backs."

Regina scoffed. Not exactly the reaction John was expecting.

"What?"

She met his gaze for a moment before starting to walk away, mumbling, "nothing."

John followed after her, reaching for her arm – but soon letting go when she turned to glare at him - before prompting; "Go on, what?"

She paused, weighing up her words before saying; "I think we both have very different experiences of family."

John turned to look at her, half-afraid to ask; "How so?"

"Your backs are watched," she started, before trying to appear detached as she admitted; "my back was belted."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," she assured him, before she gave a wry smile and quipped; "we all have some kind of fucked up backstory, don't we?"

"Oh yeah, I'm a right bunny-boiler, me," John teased, bringing forth a chuckle from the both of them.

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before John admitted; "you know, you're not as bad as I thought you were... Sorry for almost shooting you."

"Same goes for you, I guess." Regina leaned closer to him and lowered her voice; "but if you breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, I will kill you."

"Well, that'd be terrible..." John exclaimed in an overly dramatic fashion. "Half of the all-day buffets would go out of business."

They paused for a second, holding back laughter until they caught each other's eye and it broke free.

With the ice completely broken and a proverbial handshake offered, they were on their way back in companionable silence to Robin and the gang.

..*..

"Are you screwin' her?" Will Scarlet had asked not thirty seconds after John had left - partly because he knew how much it would annoy the man to have _just_ missed out on the gossip, and partly because he simply couldn't take not knowing anymore. He was met with several glares and an elbow from either side, but he paid them no mind. " _What_?! We were all thinkin' it, I was just the only one brave enough to say aught."

Despite the men chiding Will's tactfulness - or lack thereof - they all turned to Robin for an answer.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Robin admitted; "No, I'm not 'screwing her'."

The five men looked at him as if he had grown a separate head.

"Oh…"

" _Really_?"

"Why not?"

Robin ignored them, picking up a complimentary newspaper from the table next to his armchair and pretending to flick through it in order to try and avoid questioning. But he could _feel_ the men's eyes on him, attempting to intimidate him into answering.

"She's a pain in the ass," Robin stated, not much of an answer to anything, but hopefully something that would mollify them.

"I'm sure _you'd_ be the pain in the ass, mate," Will joked, a few men laughing at the crudeness and the others warily watching Robin for his response.

"Ha. Ha." Their leader deadpanned, pushing down the urge to defend Regina's honour lest his men have further material to tease him with - though he couldn't lie and say his thoughts had never travelled down that route; she certainly put the _ass_ in assassin, and he was a hot-blooded male after all.

"Tell us one thing," Brian Tuck started, "just so we know that you're not completely doolally..."

Robin peered at them over the newspaper, warily eyeing Tuck with a questioning; " _yes?"_

"You'd be down if she asked, right?" Tuck didn't even let his boss answer before he added; "...because if not then you're either blind or gay - and I'm pretty sure she'd even turn a few of the latter."

"I…" Robin started, intending to protest, but then he took note of the knowing glares sent his way and realised there was no use. He let out a resigned sigh. "Have you _seen_ her?"

"Indeed we have, mate." Alan paused, before adding; "And we've seen _you_."

Robin froze, not understanding their meaning. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're sweet on her," Brian Tuck mocked. "Our little Robin's got a crush."

"He goes all heart-eyed when he talks to her..."

"And he stares at her way too intently," Will noted. "She probably doesn't even steal your targets; she flutters her eyelashes and you just hand them over to make her smile."

Robin rolled his eyes, ignoring the onslaught of comments regarding his admiration of Regina. It was true; perhaps he looked upon her with an eye of favour, but that didn't excuse his grown-ass teammates turning into highschool assholes with their taunting...

"Robin and Regina sitting in a tree..."

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

He almost shot them there and then. It'd be worth getting arrested. But as it was, movement in his peripheral vision distracted him, and he ground out; "Guys, shut up."

"We're only teasing, mate," Will assured, grinning and high-fiving Tuck the way they always did after drawing a reaction from their leader.

"No, seriously, shut up," Robin ordered, his eyes flicking over to the doorway to his left; "she's here."

In all due respect, the men quietened their teasing instantly, probably too busy staring at Regina and John walking back with a new air of familiarity about them. Robin would have laughed if he wasn't confused by the same thing.

"Anyone else seeing this?" Tuck muttered under his breath, his answer only coming in the form of stupefied nods.

"Y'all alright?" John asked the moment he returned, taking his seat opposite Robin as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Five of the men turned to look at John as he got comfortable on the green sofa, staring at him as if he was about to turn into a flying monkey any second. But Robin's attention was captured by red lips and brown eyes and dark curls framing a gorgeous face...

"John said you have something that belongs to me?" Regina asked, raising her brow when it took Robin a few seconds to realise she had actually spoken to him - and was expecting a response in the form of words.

Robin nodded before reaching down for the black, leather bag by his feet. He handed it over, watching the corner of her mouth curve upwards in a smile before her attention was drawn away by John Little asking her to accompany them to a bar for a drink.

There was a little bartering between them, both John and Regina providing reasons for their respective 'yes' or 'no', and Robin watched as Regina's defences lowered little by little - until she looked mere seconds away from agreeing.

His eyes trailed over her a little more, roaming over the beauty of her profile and the shape of her figure before he spotted the corner of a folded up piece of paper sticking out of the side pocket of the bag she had slung over her shoulder. Robin reached out, intending to just push it back, but then he saw ' _Re_ ' and part of a ' _g_ ' messily written in red wax crayon on the front, and his curiosity had him niftily pulling it out and into his lap.

He started to open it, gently unfolding until the small square turned into a larger rectangle, anticipation building inside of him as he wondered what sentimental item Regina could find so important to risk keep on her person. He just had time to comprehend it was a child's drawing before he heard a cold; "What do you think you're doing?"

Robin raised his head to see Regina glaring at him, her eyes dark and deadly, and the sudden, drastic change in her from the woman about to go for a drink with him and his friends made him stumble over his words. "I... I was just-"

Without waiting for his response, Regina reached down and snatched the drawing away from him, leaving Robin's hands left with nothing but the sting of twin paper cuts on his palms. But before he could even wince, she had grabbed his hands and pressed them into the bitterly cold metal handles of his armchair, keeping them there with her weight. She leaned forward, so close to his face that he could feel her breath ghosting over his cheeks, and despite all of his training and everything he had been through, Robin felt a vague twinge of fear take root inside of him, knowing any person whom Regina had interrogated would have certainly been put through hell first.

The woman before him seemed an entirely different entity from the one in his mind whenever he thought of Regina, it was as if a switch had been flicked and she was now in her assassin mindset - and directing all of her simmering rage towards him.

That vague twinge of fear spread through his veins like wildfire.

" _Never_ go through my things again. Understood?" Regina growled, and at that point, Robin would have agreed to _anything_ to get back his bantering, teasing, Little Miss Hot Assassin.

He nodded, but Regina merely continued to glare at him until he verbally answered; "Understood."

"You're going to forget about what you just saw," she declared, her voice low and threatening. "And if I find out that anyone else knows about this through your actions, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do. Is that clear?"

Robin started to nod but then remembered that Regina preferred verbal responses to her threats, so he paused, met her gaze and replied; "crystal."

"Good." She spent a few more seconds with her eyes boring into his, before straightening, throwing a ' _forget about the drink'_ to the men behind her, and storming away.

It took until the clack of her heels faded completely before Robin released the breath he had been holding, letting it out along with the tension held in his every muscle.

"You fucked up, Robin," John stated, and there were agreeing nods from the men sat with them.

"I'm aware," Robin snapped back, flashing to Regina's cold, guarded eyes and the lack of anything but danger behind them.

He had _royally_ fucked up. He just hoped it hadn't cost him his head.


End file.
